Playing the Game
by avalon.clarity
Summary: Serena has a dark past and needs to start over, but something stands in her way. Sherlock may be able to help fix her problem. They both know how to play the game. But since neither of them believes in love, they couldn't possibly have feelings for each other, could they? Sherlock x OC
1. Bored

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**I own nothing but my OCs. **

**Check out my other fanfics: Once Upon a Time, Rise of the Guardians, and Star Trek: ****Voyager**

**Read on...**

Chapter One: Bored

(Sherlock's POV)

The gun fit comfortably in his hand, like an extension of his arm. It was easy to use. Pull the trigger, and he could blow up a vase, fatally wound a man, or in this case, make the pattern of a smile on the wall.

_Bang! _It went off again.

"Sherlock? Are you bored again?" John's voice echoed up the stairs loudly.

"Insufferably." Sherlock said.

"I got the groceries." John said then muttered, "Like you never do."

"I heard that. And if getting the groceries wasn't so god-forsakenly boring, I might consider getting them." Sherlock responded, and he shot at the wall again. The wallpaper was getting on his nerves.

"No you wouldn't. You're too lazy." John said.

Sherlock ignored him and fired another bullet.

"Do you mind? Mrs. Hudson is going to throw a fit." John said.

"I need my patches." Sherlock looked at him with what he hoped was a convincing expression.

"Cold turkey, remember?" John reminded him. "You burned all your patches."

"Why on earth did I do that?" Sherlock asked the ceiling.

"You were drunk. You had just solved the Hounds case and we went out to celebrate." John said.

"Why didn't you stop me?" Sherlock asked, infuriated at his own stupidity.

"Because I don't fancy living with a nicotine-addict." John replied.

"Please, John. I'm desperate. You have to help me." Sherlock said to him pleadingly.

John looked at Sherlock over his newspaper and folded it in half. "Fine. We're going out."

"To buy cigarettes?" Sherlock asked.

"Maybe." John said, tossing Sherlock his jacket and scarf.

Sherlock stood up, shrugging off his robe and slipping his arms through the jacket. "Very well." He tightened the scarf around his neck. "Let's go."

They walked down the stairs, ignoring Mrs. Hudson's complaints about massive holes in her wall. Sherlock walked out into the cold street, passing by a middle-aged man wearing a hat.

"Okay, here's what we're going to do. We are going to walk down the street, and you are going to try to find out as much about people as you possibly can." John said.

"No." Sherlock complained.

"Come on. It'll make you feel better." John pointed to a woman wearing absurdly high heels. "Her first."

Sherlock glanced over the woman, his eyes absorbing every minute detail.

"She's American for starters. She's trying to look the part of the big-city girl by wearing a ridiculous amount of makeup and those stilettoes, five or six inches at least. She also has a large dog, probably a running companion, and she plays tennis. I'd say she's from Virginia by her luggage and jacket, and she was not anticipating the confusion of the tube, so she is hailing a taxi instead." Sherlock said at rapid-fire speed.

"You never cease to impress. Now him." John gestured to a man walking past.

They made their way down the street, John pointing out two more people. Sherlock knew everything about them from the second he saw them. That was why he blocked most people out. He detested knowing about their silly little lives, so insignificant compared to the grand scheme of things.

"One more. Her." John craned his head toward a woman standing casually on the corner. Sherlock took one glance and turned back to John.

"Try to pick more interesting people, John." He said.

"What did you see?" John inquired.

"Nothing interesting." Sherlock replied.

"Tell me something."

Sherlock sighed, taking in the girl looking at the map. "She has just moved to London. Happy?"

John nodded, and they turned back around up the street.

The girl reading the map glanced up at them. She looked at the pair closely; the navy scarf, the black hair, the man named John. She folded the map and hitched her purse up on her shoulder. A small smile waltzed across her lips and she began to follow them.


	2. Identity

**Hey guys. Second chapter's up! Enjoy!**

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**Thanks for reading.**

Chapter Two: Identity

(Serena's POV)

Serena followed the old woman up the stairs. She was jabbering away.

"Sherlock is a bit odd, that's for sure. But don't mind him, dear, he's sweet." Mrs. Hudson said.

She walked in through the open door without bothering to knock. A second later, Serena heard the gunshot. She ducked instinctively, and Mrs. Hudson let out a small gasp of surprise.

"Sherlock! That is no way to behave with guests." She said, her voice breathy.

"I wasn't aware we had guests." The man reclining on the couch said. In his hand was the handgun. He craned his neck around and met Serena's eyes.

He was rather attractive. All the newspaper's pictures didn't do those cheekbones and pale blue-green eyes justice. Serena might have stared a moment too long, but she didn't mind that he knew.

"This young woman is looking for your help, Sherlock." Mrs. Hudson said, and Serena stepped forward.

"A case. Brilliant!" A man said, stepping around the corner. _This must be John_, Serena thought.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. Please leave." Sherlock said, sitting up slightly. He still held the gun. Serena watched it warily.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson." Serena said to her as she walked away.

John closed the door behind her, and Serena flicked her gaze to it briefly. She still felt the flicker of fear whenever she saw a closed door. At least she could control it.

"Please, take a seat." John gestured to a wooden chair stationed in front of the couch. He took a seat next to Sherlock, who grudgingly sat up. He looked at Serena intently, a hint of confusion in his eyes, and she got the feeling he was monitoring her, like an insect trapped on a card.

_Don't even start to think about being trapped_, she ordered herself.

Sherlock still looked slightly perplexed. She hadn't expected to ever see that emotion on his face.

"If you are trying to figure out who I am, I'll just tell you. You saw me on the street earlier today." Serena said calmly.

"The girl on the corner, of course. Well, I'm sorry if I offended you…" Sherlock said.

"You didn't offend me." Serena interrupted with a smile. "I had just moved to London. I hope my case isn't quite as boring as you believe I am."

John's eyes shot from point to point on Serena's face. She knew he was worried she actually was offended.

"I don't believe we know your name. I'm assuming you know ours." Sherlock said.

"My name is Amanda." Serena said calmly.

"Wrong!" Sherlock said, turning up toward the ceiling.

"Sherlock!" John said. "Apologize."

"I think I know what my own name is." Serena said, her fear making her defensive.

"Amanda isn't your name! You came to us because we're the best. You think I can't tell when someone's lying." Sherlock said, and Serena sighed.

"Sherlock…" John said warningly.

"No, it's fine. You're right." Serena admitted. "My real name is Serena. Serena Gambles."

Sherlock looked at John as if to say I told you so. John didn't look amused.

"How did you know?" Serena asked.

"Simple. When you said your name, your foot shifted very slightly inward. A very defensive position." Sherlock said.

"Impressive. What else can you see about me?" Serena asked.

Sherlock looked at her in silence for a second more. "You moved to London about a month ago, you don't smoke, but you drink on occasion, you are single, you are cleithrophobic, I believe, which quite ironic because you are a psychologist specializing in treating phobias, and I admit, you are fairly good at covering up who you are. Better than most ordinary people."

"An important skill to have." Serena said. "I understand the moving, the drinking, and the job as a psychologist, but how did you know the rest?"

Sherlock sighed. "I know you are cleithrophobic because when John shut the door, your eyes went straight to the lock. That is a usual symptom of cleithrophobia."

"What is cleithrophobia?" John asked.

"The fear of being trapped." Serena said.

"I thought that was claustrophobia." John said.

"Claustrophobia is the fear of small spaces, or not having an escape. Cleithrophobia is being trapped at all. Cleithrophobics, when it is most severe, could be in a massive room, and if they couldn't get out it would still be a trigger." Serena explained.

"Trauma or childhood aversion?" Sherlock asked.

"Childhood aversion." Serena said. She kept her voice flat and body completely still. Sherlock didn't give her a second-glance, and she resisted the urge to sigh.

"And being single?" Serena asked.

"You were attracted to me the moment you walked in." Sherlock said, and Serena laughed.

"That doesn't mean I'm single." Serena said.

"Yes, it does." Sherlock said.

"You can be attracted to someone and still be single. If not, everyone would be searching for Prince Charming." Serena said.

Sherlock looked away from her face. She figured that him not speaking was as close as she would get to him giving up.

John cleared his throat. "And, so, about your case." He prompted.

"I read your blog. It's fantastic. I have a problem, and I think you two can help me." Serena said.

She took out two squares of paper from her bag and handed them to John. "These two people were found dead within the last week. They were both my patients. They had severe phobias. He had arachnophobia, she had ophidiophobia. They both committed suicide. Only I don't think they did."

John's head turned to Sherlock, who leaned back and closed his eyes.

"There's more. They both committed suicide with a gun, the same gun. And they were both found in flats that weren't theirs and that were stripped of every thing. No furniture, wallpaper, radiators, nothing."

Sherlock opened his eyes again. "Have you gone to the police?"

"Of course. They think that it's suicide, but there are just too many similarities for it to be simple." Serena said, and Sherlock sat up.

"Scotland Yard is made up of idiots. It's a wonder we're not all dead." She added, and the corner of his mouth twitched. John looked at Serena as if he knew exactly what she was doing, baiting Sherlock with the police's incompetence. He probably did.

"Are you going to help me, or not?" Serena asked finally.

"Murder, fear, a possible serial killer! Yes." Sherlock said matter-of-factly.

"Come on John. We're going to Scotland Yard." He stood up and grabbed a scarf lying discarded on the floor.

John stood up and stared at Serena with gratitude. She couldn't imagine why until she saw the dozen bullet holes in the wall. Sherlock walked toward the door and opened it.

"Wait!" Serena said. She walked over to Sherlock, meeting his eyes. Strange. She had thought they were blue-green, but now they were a greenish-gray. "I want to be involved. That includes coming with you two to solve the case."

Sherlock seemed to absorb her request one word at a time. "Do you know how to shoot a gun?" He finally asked.

"Yes."

He turned and hurried down the stairs. "Welcome aboard!" He tossed over his shoulder, and Serena grinned as she followed him down to the street.


	3. Idiot

**Hey guys, sorry about the delay on this one! I have a temporary case of writer's block :'(**

**Please review as always!**

They were in the taxi on the way to Scotland Yard when John finally broke the silence.

"You know Mrs. Hudson is upset. She only just had the other holes filled in." He said.

"Add it to the bill." Sherlock said dismissively.

"We don't have money." John said.

"I'll pay for the case." Serena offered.

"I don't take money for my cases." Sherlock said.

"But, if you need it…" Serena said.

"Don't try to argue with him. He's impossible." John told Serena.

"I take offense to that. The moment you present an argument you are correct on, I'll concede."

John snorted. "You'll never enter into an argument if you think you're wrong, Sherlock!"

Serena really wanted to ask the question burning at the back of her mind since she met the pair. "Are you two a couple?" She asked.

"No!" John said fervently, and Serena got the feeling he was offended. Sherlock didn't seem to care.

"It's okay if…"

"We're not a couple." John said again.

There was a long silence where no one, not even the cabbie, spoke.

"So…why'd you choose London?" John asked, and Sherlock scoffed.

"Sherlock!" John hissed, and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Um," Serena watched him curiously as her walls went up, carefully selecting her words, "I really needed a change of pace. Huge city, lots of new people." The cab stopped and Sherlock got out. Serena breathed an exhale of relief.

"Don't say anything." Sherlock told Serena.

"Okay." She said, and he rushed in.

"Sorry about him." John said apologetically.

"Oh, he's fine. Sorry about the couple thing." She said.

"No trouble." John said, and Serena believed him.

She immediately felt out of place. Sherlock clearly knew his way around. He headed for the elevator and pressed the button for the eleventh floor.

They got out and Sherlock and John walked forward. Serena began to follow but found her path blocked by a hand. She stiffened.

"Hold it. These are private offices." The police officer said.

"She's with me." Sherlock said, and he held eyes with the officer for a few seconds.

"Of course. Go on ahead." The officer said to Serena, who nodded.

"You have a lot of sway here, don't you?" She asked Sherlock.

"Of course." He answered.

"What're you doing here?" A man with graying hair came up, balancing a stack of files.

"Take these." He said to a young woman walking past. She gave him an exasperated glance as she grabbed the paperwork.

"I need the case files for the murders of these two people." Sherlock presented the two photos.

Lestrade immediately glanced around, and Serena stepped into his line of sight. He looked at her briefly, not giving a thing away.

"Ms. Gambles. I didn't expect you to take this to Sherlock." He said coolly.

"I told you, Detective Inspector, I wouldn't stop until I found the key to this case." Serena answered just as coolly. Lestrade's eyes gave away too much. They were questioning, concerned, frustrated. Serena knew Sherlock had noticed.

"I'll give you the files, but those cases are closed." Lestrade stopped a man. "Get me the reports on those two suicides, will you?" The man nodded.

"This is a waste of time." Lestrade said to Serena.

"I'm not willing to accept that." She retorted before she pasted a calm smile on her face. "But I'm grateful for everything you've done already." It was true. She was grateful. But not because he ignored her case.

Lestrade now had a warning written all over his face. He inclined his head in a way that could be a nod. Sherlock glanced between the two of them.

The young man handed Lestrade the folders, and he passed them to Sherlock. He flipped the first open, examining it quickly before moving on to the next. His face contorted into a slightly confused expression.

"What is it?" John asked.

Sherlock snapped shut the folder and met Serena's eyes. "They look like suicides." He said, and Serena's shoulders slumped a fraction of a centimeter.

"But," Sherlock looked at Lestrade, "something doesn't add up."

He began to pace in the small space. Two steps, turn, two steps, turn, it went on and on for minutes. Lestrade still waited. Maybe something didn't add up in his mind either, and he just needed a reason to open the case.

Serena heard a buzz, and Lestrade glanced at his phone. He picked it up.

"Detective Inspector Lestrade here." He said. "Another? I'm on my way."

"Another? Another what?" Sherlock asked.

"Suicide." Lestrade said, and Sherlock's face split into a smile.

"Splendid!" He said, and Serena watched as he walked toward the door. John looked helplessly at his back.

"This happens a lot." He said.

"It's all right."

"He shouldn't be so happy."

"It's all right." Serena insisted. "I knew many people worse than him."

Lestrade began to follow, and a woman joined him. When she passed Sherlock, waiting at the door, Serena heard her say the word, "Freak." She said it casually, like it was his given name, not an insult. She didn't whisper either. Lestrade gave her an uncomfortable glance, but said nothing. Serena felt something akin to hate immediately. But it wasn't hate. Hate was cold, like the Artic, and this was hot. This was anger, pure and simple.

They began to walk out as a group when the woman paused, looking at Serena closely.

"Do I know you?" She asked.

"I brought in this case a week or so ago." Serena said frigidly.

"You're wasting your time on him." The woman jerked her head toward Sherlock, and Serena's hand began to jitter in anger.

"I'm not as easily fooled as _some_ of the police. And the simple fact of the matter is intelligent criminals slip past you every day." Serena told her. The woman looked shocked for a second, but Serena didn't regret it.

She walked alongside Lestrade outside, and he didn't so much give her a disapproving glance. But Serena caught John and Sherlock looking at each other in a way she wasn't sure was silent laughter at the woman's expression, or approval of her minor outburst.


	4. Suicide

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**Enjoy this one, I hope you'll be pleased...**

The crime scene wasn't far from Baker's street, Serena noticed. A couple dozen officers swarmed around the crime scene. A couple bystanders watched curiously from outside the yellow crime scene tape. It was a strange sensation, being on the other side, part of the chaos. Serena's eyes flicked from one spot to the next, the man holding back the civilians, the woman speaking in a walkie-talkie.

Then she realized she was looking at it from the wrong perspective. She was seeing each person as an individual, but each individual worked as a smoothly functioning team. Each cog and gear had its place to make the whole thing run like clockwork. The question now was whether or not she would jam the clock.

She followed John inside the apartment, up two flights of stairs. Sherlock's back filled the entire stairway above her.

They enter the room and Serena stops cold. There he is, lying flat on the ground, the gun clenched in his white hand, the blood running in a lake from his head. His brown eyes were unclosed, sightless. She had chills running up and down her spine.

Sherlock noticed from one glance at her face. "If you can't handle this, leave." He said, snapping gloves on.

"Sherlock!" John said, but Serena waved him off.

"I'm fine. I knew this man well. We were friends. His name is Andrew Potter." Serena said, and Sherlock glanced up at her from where he kneeled next to the victim. There was something like regret in his eyes, but Serena brushed it off as wishful thinking on her part.

"I'm sorry." John said, and Serena smiled weakly.

"He was a good man. He was getting better." She said. He wouldn't get any better anymore.

"His phobia. What was it?"

"Severe astraphobia. He used to freeze up uncontrollably at the sight of lightning, and if there were any chance of rain, he'd stay inside. But he had fixed a lot of those problems." Serena said.

Sherlock walks over to the window. "He never showed up for his last appointment. But he called in sick, I didn't think anything of it."

"He called in sick?"

"Yes, it was definitely him." Serena said, and Sherlock looked around the room before meeting Lestrade's eyes.

"What did you find?" Lestrade asked.

"Hmm. The door has obviously been pounded on, the gun is the exact same model as the other two, the man has wood under his fingernails from those scratches on the floor. But the most intriguing thing is the faint outline of dust on the window. Square, small, easily hidden, but what was it? There's no evidence of a power cord, so either it was battery-powered or non-electronic. There are small traces of black paint around the edges of the single window, which isn't odd, except that I checked the paint under this one. It isn't black, but rather orange." Sherlock said in a matter of seconds.

"So…" Lestrade prompted.

"The man was clearly trying to escape. What suicide victim tries to escape his chosen room? And the dust, very slight. He's only been dead for seven or eight hours, and there is no dust on the shape. So it was there for a few days, and was removed less than eight hours ago. Same with the black paint. The paint as been scraped off skillfully, but whoever did it was in a hurry. They left miniscule traces. If they were a truly proficient killer, they would have done a thorough job."

"What are you thinking?" Lestrade asked.

"Something like that cabbie. Remember, John? Our first case together?" Sherlock said, and John nodded.

"Of course. He forced people to choose between the two pills, correct?"

"An overly-simplified version, but yes." Sherlock said. "This is a suicide."

"I thought you just said…" Serena said.

"Andrew shot the gun, but the true killer forced him to do it. I'm not sure how, why, or who, but that is certain." Sherlock said to Serena, who nodded.

"We need to go back to Baker Street. I need to think." He said, walking out of the room.

"Looks like you were right." Lestrade said to Serena, who glanced at Andrew's still body.

"Now that I'm proved right, I have wished I wasn't. Does three people count as a serial killer?" She asked.

"I should probably go, or Sherlock will leave without me." John said.

"I should go to." Serena said. "Thank you." She nodded to Lestrade and followed John out.

"John? John! Are you there?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes." John said, leaning over the stairwell.

"Bring her with you!" Sherlock said.

"Me?" Serena asked.

"Yes, you." Sherlock said. "I'm giving you two minutes to get down here before I leave.

"Come on." John said.

"Why does he need me?" Serena asked.

"I don't know. But I apologize in advance if he bothers you." John said.

"He doesn't bother me. He's just really, really honest."

Someone grabbed Serena's arms lightly, and Serena's spine instantly stiffened.

"Serena Gambles, is it?" The annoying woman from earlier said.

"Yes." Serena said.

"Look, I'm sorry if we got off on the wrong foot." The woman said as they kept walking downstairs.

"I'm Sergeant Sally Donovan." The woman said.

"I just wanted to warn you. You shouldn't be trusting Sherlock for help."

"Why?" Serena asked. She hid her growing irritation behind questioning calm.

"He's a psychopath. He doesn't accept money for cases. He does it because he enjoys it. He doesn't do it out of the good of his heart, but because he gets bored. One day, being a detective won't be enough. He'll want more. Just a friendly warning." Sergeant Donovan said.

Serena was painfully aware of John's eyes on her as they reached the first floor and stopped.

"I understand. It must be hard to find someone who you can't figure out." Serena said calmly.

"Excuse me?" Sergeant Donovan sounded outraged.

"Look, it's alright." Serena said with a simpering smile. "There will be a lot of people you don't understand. I suggest you don't give up on them so quickly." The sergeant opened her mouth, but Serena plowed on. "He's solved dozens of cases for Scotland Yard, ones that you couldn't figure out. I don't think he's a psychopath, just…misunderstood. You should take a second to look a bit closer."

"You…you don't know what you're getting yourself into. You are blinded by…admiration and hope." Sergeant Donovan said.

"I think you're the one who's blinded," Serena said, "because you can't comprehend just how brilliant he is. Thanks for the advice."

She turned around to see John gaping at her and Sherlock looking at her, reading her like a book. She brushed past them quickly to the outside street. The sunlight filtering through the clouds blinded her for a moment.

"Did you really mean that?" A deep voice said behind her, and she turned to see Sherlock looking at her. Blue eyes met blue eyes and Serena found herself wondering if they changed with his mood.

"Of course." She said simply, and Sherlock looked slightly dumbfounded for the briefest of seconds.

"Thank you."


	5. Deductions

**Chapter five, in which I smile quite a lot. ;)**

**Enjoy and please, please, please review!**

(Sherlock's POV)

He tossed his coat onto the floor and grabbed the bathrobe hanging off a chair. John dutifully hung up his dropped coat and Serena walked inside behind him.

She interested him. She was keeping so many secrets. She only let him see exactly what she wanted, no more, no less.

Like her emotions. She showed them all; anger, sadness, happiness, determination. But she only showed the surface of them, the actor's façade. He had no doubt she felt those emotions, but he knew they went deeper.

She knew something. Her exchange with Lestrade. He never would have known if Lestrade hadn't given it away. And even he didn't leave enough clues for Sherlock to piece it together.

One thing was positive; Serena was the key to her own puzzle. And she didn't seem eager to share.

Did he admire her? Maybe. She wasn't brilliant like him. She thought on her feet while he plotted out each move. She had cleverly disguised herself right under his nose on the street. He resented that. He had barely recognized her when she walked into his apartment.

She didn't play the game on the scale that he did; no, she controlled her own private game within herself.

"Tea?" John asked.

"Yes, please." Serena said.

"Have a seat." John said, and Serena bent her legs.

"No, not there!" Sherlock shouted, and Serena froze.

"Why?" She asked, moving to a different seat.

"Experiment." Sherlock said.

"Sherlock…" John said exasperatingly.

"I was bored!"

John sat next to Serena on the couch, and Sherlock looked at them. John's gaze lingered on Serena's dark brown hair a moment too long to be platonic.

"John, I think the kettle's going off." Sherlock said.

"Don't be ridiculous." John shot him a glance that suggested he knew exactly what he was doing.

The kettle began to whistle, and Sherlock looked pointedly at the kitchen. John got up silently and Sherlock could hear sounds of water pouring.

Serena stared out the window absentmindedly. Sherlock could almost see her mind working. If only he could be in there with her, he could see what she was keeping from him…

"Here's your tea." John said. Serena's hand closed around the mug. John's fingertips stayed too long on the mug, touching her hand. Serena smiled softly, and she murmured a thank you. Sherlock rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh.

"What!" John said, releasing the mug.

"Oh, stop flirting with the clients, will you?" Sherlock said, folding his arms.

"I wasn't...i wasn't flirting, Sherlock." John said to Serena, who smiled in an it's-okay sort of way. He looked relieved.

"Mr. Holmes, look, I'm confused as to why I'm here." Serena said.

"You are connected to this case, obviously." Sherlock answered.

"I doubt it."

"You personally knew all three of the victims."

"So did five other doctors at the place where I work. I was the only one who didn't accepted their suicides." Serena said.

"Why are you so determined to be unconnected?" Sherlock asked.

"Sorry?" Serena's walls were going up faster by the second.

"Sherlock, I don't think this is appropriate. It isn't relevant." John said, and Sherlock glanced at him.

"Fine. Maybe you aren't connected." Sherlock lied. He knew she was. She had to be. Solve the case and he'd solve her.

Serena relaxed against the couch. "I got to know my patients. I shouldn't, but I do. It helps me understand where their fears came from originally and how I might treat them. I dealt with trauma patients. I am good at what I do." She said.

"And the other doctors?"

"They weren't as close. They had less…faith that the most crippled patients would ever recover."

"Why did you?" Sherlock asked.

"I did. I used to see a lock or a closed door and be paralyzed with fear. I forced myself to get over it. I know you can recover."

Sherlock took out the three pictures of the victims. "Their stories. What are they?"

Serena pointed to the first man. "Mark. His older brother was bitten by a spider and died when he was thirteen. He saw it happen. Cassidy. She had a similar situation. She was wandering through the forest when she was eight or so, and a rattlesnake bit her. She nearly died. And then Andrew…his house was struck by lightning. It caught on fire. His parents were trapped inside. They didn't make it. He was six."

"That's terrible." John said.

"It puts things in perspective." Serena stared at the pictures sadly.

"Hmm." Sherlock said.

Serena took another sip of her tea. Was her hand shaking? Sherlock stared at it. It wasn't shivering in the slightest. He was inventing things to keep himself entertained.

"I need to go to your office." He said abruptly, and he stood.

"I'll take you there." Serena said, standing as well.

"Come on, John, don't fall behind." Sherlock said.

"After you," John ushered Serena through the door.

"What a gentleman." She answered. Sherlock could feel her smile at his back.

"Stop it!" He said firmly as they walked downstairs.

"Taxi!" He shouted, and one pulled up.

They got in, and Serena gave the cabbie the address.

"Where did you come from before London?" John asked.

"I moved around a lot." Serena said.

"Really? That must have been interesting." John said.

"I didn't like it very much. Being settled is more secure."

"I understand what you mean. I'm an army doctor."

"Retired." Sherlock said. "Retired army doctor."

"What do you do now?" Serena asked.

"Help him. And I work part time at a surgery nearby."

"Oh please stop. I'm trying to think." Sherlock said. He could feel Serena's eyes on him, trying to puzzle him out. He wished her luck.

"You aren't thinking." She said, and his eyes shot open.

"You're just trying to get us to shut up. If we were bothering you, you could have said so."

Sherlock looked at her, and she stared back. Her eyes were shielded again, her entire face closed off.

"How are you at reading people?" Sherlock asked her.

"Not bad, if I do say so myself." Serena answered.

"Read me." He challenged, and her eyes narrowed slightly.

"You spend very little time on your physical appearance, but you care deeply about how the outside world views you. Not in looks, but in intelligence. You think your only friend is him, and you believe most of the world is made up of idiots." She said slowly.

"You could have deduced all that from past experience with me." Sherlock said.

"That's the most important part of a person, their past." Serena said. "What do you know about mine?"

Sherlock looked at her. He looked at her clothes, her makeup, and the way she did her hair. She sat completely still under his scrutiny.

"I know you have parents. No siblings. But you don't talk to your parents very much, do you?"

"No, I don't. We're rather estranged." Serena said with a shrug.

"You try to look nice for the outside world, don't you?"

"What woman doesn't?"

"You care too much about other people. You choose to see the good in people rather than the bad."

Serena laughed. "All true, unfortunately for me." She looked at him, the ghost of her smile on her face. "I bet that a lot of people think you're abrasive, rude, antisocial."

Sherlock inclined his head slightly.

"Yes." John said.

"I don't think that." Serena said, and Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Okay, maybe a little. But I like the fact that you are brutally honest. It's refreshing." She said.

Sherlock looked at her. He didn't know what to say.

She looked satisfied with herself the rest of the way to the office.


	6. Puzzles

**It's here, it's here! The next chapter.**

**I just finished re-watching all of Sherlock, sorry. I still cry every time at The Fall. :'( **

**Review if you cry to! Or if you don't! I just want, no, ****_need _****reviews.**

**Haha anyway, here you go. Love you all and thanks for reading, it's amazing of you!**

(Sherlock's POV)

Her office wasn't the most interesting of buildings. In fact, it looked almost identical to the one next to it.

Serena swiped a pass at the entrance and held the door open for them.

"I work on the third floor. We can take the elevator."

"What are the first two floors used for?"

"Alcohol and drug rehabilitation." Serena said, and she pressed the button for the elevator. They stepped inside, and she pushed the button.

"There are some unstable people here." Serena said warningly as the doors opened.

"Serena, babe!" A loud voice said, and Sherlock could see her back stiffen a fraction. A man came around the corner. His blond hair was tousled; he probably raked his fingers through it the moment he saw her.

"Hi, Daniel." Serena sounded resigned.

"Who are these men? You aren't replacing me, are you?" Daniel said, but he sounded far from serious. His brown eyes were laughing.

"We are with Scotland Yard, in a matter of speaking. We are investigating the recent suicides. I need to see your patient files." Sherlock said quickly.

"Darling, we both know those three were some of the most unstable. We may have thought they were getting better, but obviously not. I understand you're upset, but it's time to let go. I can help you, if you want." Daniel said, placing a hand on her arm in a way that Sherlock doubted very much was just a comforting gesture.

Serena shrugged off his hand in one swift movement. "The police believe otherwise. And my name is Serena, not darling."

"Whatever you say." Daniel shot a glance at John and Sherlock, and he smirked.

"The files?" Sherlock said.

The air was ripped apart by a scream of terror. Serena's head turned toward the sound. A little girl pointed at Sherlock, utter fear on her face. Her mouth was stretched wide.

"Kayla, what is it?" Serena asked.

The girl's finger trembled. "H-h-he h-has a g-gun…" She stuttered, her voice hoarse.

Serena whirled on Sherlock. "You brought a gun!" She hissed.

She looked so furious that Sherlock wasn't sure what to say. "I-I always…"

"You do remember that a lot of these patients are traumatized, don't you?" She said, spinning on her heels and walking to the girl, now frozen in place, staring at Sherlock. She scooped up the girl in her arms.

"Kayla, look at me. Not at him, me." The girl tore her eyes away from Sherlock and stared at Serena, who smiled kindly. "That's right. Take deep breaths. This man isn't going to hurt you. He's a friend. It's okay." Serena stalked away.

"Help them." She said over her shoulder as she walked down a hall.

"Right this way, gentlemen." Daniel gestured to an office, and Sherlock and John followed him inside.

"Take a seat." Daniel sat behind the desk and laced his fingers together.

"So, you need the files." He said, and he pulled out a stack and tossed them across the desk. John picked them up, and Sherlock stared at Daniel carefully.

"What do you know about Serena?" He asked.

Daniel chuckled. "Less than I would like to, if you know what I mean."

"No, I don't." Sherlock said.

"Look, all I know is she came in here with no credentials and only a degree in psychology about a month ago, but she got the job anyway. She's great with the patients, great at her job. I don't understand why she cares for them so much. They're all liabilities on society. I'm just here for the money. Pays well, you know."

"Anything else?" Sherlock asked.

"Every man in this office is enamored with her, but she ignores them all. Serena's one cold fish, that's for sure. It just makes us all want her more. That body and that face, wow. It'll be worth the wait when I have her. Let me tell you, I've pulled out all the stops on this one."

Sherlock felt cold. He wasn't sure why he cared, but he did. John stood straight up in his seat.

"You're a pig." John said.

"John, come on." Sherlock grabbed his friend's shoulder firmly in one hand and the files in the other. "We're leaving."

Daniel's face was the epitome of puzzlement as Sherlock pulled John behind him. Sherlock glanced around for Serena and saw her coming out of a room. The little girl was still wrapped around her.

"We better leave." Sherlock said.

"Why?" Serena asked. She was still annoyed with him. He could tell.

The little girl peered through her eyelashes at him. She didn't seem quite as terrified as she was.

"John will kill that charming man if we don't." Sherlock said. John was still glaring at the confused Daniel. Serena sighed.

"Kayla, I need to go." She untangled herself from the girl's arms and set her down.

"I want to come with you!" Kayla said.

"I'm sorry, you can't." Serena said sadly. "But I'll be back tomorrow."

"Please?" She asked, her eyes getting big.

"Sandy?" Serena called out. A big man came around the corner.

"Kayla, come on. We'll play a game." He said gently.

The girl looked at him adoringly. "Okay." She said. "Bye Serena."

Serena waved goodbye and sighed.

"Orphan?" Sherlock asked.

"Yeah. She was four when it happened. She's six now. A mugger shot her parents in front of her and stuffed her in a box. She was found almost ten hours later by police. She didn't have any family, so she was put in foster care. The system decided she was too unstable, so they sent her to an orphanage, and they sent her here. She has hoplophobia and achluophobia, both treatable." Serena said as they got in the elevator.

It dinged and they stepped out.

"Look, I'm sorry for getting so angry with you. It was irrational." Serena said to Sherlock calmly.

"It wasn't irrational. You were protecting her." Sherlock said.

"I wasn't sure if you would understand that." Serena said.

"I don't."

"So if John was in danger, you wouldn't go to save him?"

"You're very perceptive."

Serena looked at John. His fists were still clenched, Sherlock noticed.

"Tell me, was Daniel a bother like usual?" She asked.

John let out a bark of laughter. "Bother me? No, finding heads in my flat bothers me. I wanted to rip his head off."

"What did he say?" Serena asked.

"You don't want to know." John replied.

"Oh, don't be noble, John. I'm sure she knows." Sherlock said, and Serena opened the door.

"He's a bastard." John said.

Serena smiled as she hailed a taxi. It was the pleasantly surprised smile of someone who wasn't expecting help. "I appreciate you defending me, but I can handle a couple horny coworkers."

"He doesn't get more aggressive, does he?" John asked.

"If he was, I'd report him to our boss and he would be fired. I'm on good terms with her." She said.

"Good." John said.

Sherlock watched their exchange silently, observing every change in Serena's expression. She was accustomed to being treated like this, like she was merely an object to be stared at. The way John treated her surprised her. She knew he thought she was attractive, but she didn't mind because she liked him. She knew how to take care of herself, but she wanted help. And she was fiercely proud. But what did this tell him about her past?

Nothing.

Maybe there was nothing to find. Maybe he needed her to be interesting. But his mind rejected that idea. It wasn't plausible with everything he already knew.

"Aren't you coming?" Serena asked, and Sherlock looked at her. She and John were already in the cab.

"Yes." He said, and he got in. She glanced at him as he folded himself into the seat. There really wasn't enough room. He was pressed against her, and she didn't look entirely comfortable with the situation.

"221 Baker Street." Sherlock said.

It was hot in the cab. Stifling in fact. Serena was fidgeting on his right.

"Excuse me sir. Could you open a window or something?" Serena said.

"Sorry ma'am, but the windows don't roll down. Some vandal shoved gum in the slats. We're still trying to fix it." The cabbie said.

Serena glanced at the lock. John didn't notice; he was staring out the window. She was avoiding Sherlock's gaze, most likely because she knew what he was searching for in hers.

He felt as though he could hear her heartbeat through the seat. She was getting more panicked by the second. Her gaze shot from door to door faster than Sherlock could track it. It was when her hand clenched her knee tightly that John glanced over her shoulders at Sherlock. His gaze was worried.

"Stop the cab." Sherlock ordered.

"What! Here?" The cabbie asked.

"Yes, now! Pull over!" Sherlock said. The moment they slowed down, he opened the door and got out. Serena followed him. He could sense the blind dread coming off her in waves.

"Serena, look at me." She was breathing too heavily. "Look at me!" He said fiercely, and she stared at him with wild eyes, completely unguarded. But he didn't delve deeper.

"You're in the open air now. You're fine." Sherlock said, and she nodded. Her fingers raked through her long hair anxiously.

"So sorry…silly…" She muttered.

"What brought it on?" Sherlock asked.

She shook her head. "Nothing. The heat, I don't know." Her voice was rising and falling in waves, and she glanced around.

"Why didn't you say something?" John asked.

"I-I didn't want to be a bother." She said.

"I thought you could control it." Sherlock said.

"Sometimes, certain things trigger it." Serena said.

"Are you alright?"

She nodded. Sherlock turned back to the cab and got in. Serena stepped forward. Her knee was shaking. She put one hand on to brace herself, and Sherlock saw her face drain of blood.

"I'll walk." She said.

"It's another three miles." Sherlock said.

"I'll walk."

"I'll go with you." John said.

"No."

"I could use the exercise. Anyway, I'm a doctor. It would be unprofessional for me to not make sure you are okay."

Serena sighed. "Fine. Whatever." She said.

Sherlock looked at the cabbie. "How much?" He asked, and he handed over the money.

"Oh how dreadful. Walking home." He said.

"Too boring for you?" Serena asked.

"Such hard work." Sherlock said.

Serena's mouth twitched upward. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what happened." She said.

"You apologize quite a lot. Five times, as a matter of fact." Sherlock said.

"You've been counting?"

"I have a remarkable memory."

"And yet," John said, "You couldn't remember that the earth went around the sun."

"That was useless, pitiful information."

"It's primary school learning." Serena said.

"I know, I know, alright? Your brains may have enough space to store things about…space, but mine doesn't! I have to cram things like how to identify a murderer and how suitcases splash mud onto legs in there. It's hard being me."

"Oh, yeah, your life is so hard, Mr.…"

"Oh, just call me Sherlock, will you?"

The words came out angrier than he meant them. Serena instantly looked away from him. The silence stretched on for minutes as they kept walking in a straight line.

"We should go out for dinner." John said abruptly.

"Dinner." Sherlock said.

"Yes, dinner, Sherlock. Us ordinary humans have to eat sometime. Serena?"

"Sure." She said.

"I know the perfect place." John said with a smile, and Sherlock rolled his eyes as he began talking to Serena again.


	7. Lunch

**Chapter Seven is up! Please review, it makes me insanely happy. Someone said they were excited for this chapter, where Serena, John, and Sherlock have lunch. I promise it's decent. Thanks for reading!**

(Serena's POV)

"French?" Sherlock sounded offended.

"France is the country of good food." John said as they entered the café.

Sherlock still didn't look entirely happy, but Serena ignored him as they sat down.

Her and John kept talking while Sherlock sat in silence. They talked about normal things, the weather, London, hobbies. Neither of them brought up the case. It was a mutual understanding that work had no place here.

Sherlock looked lonely, sitting on the opposite side of the table, no food and no drink. So Serena asked him a question when she saw him look at their waitress for a few milliseconds.

"Do you deduce everyone?" She asked him. It took him a couple seconds to look at her.

"When I'm bored." He said.

"What do you get out of it?" Serena asked.

"Oh, nothing. It's completely useless."

"I thought you didn't clutter up your brain with unnecessary information.

"I delete it immediately."

A phone began to ring, and Serena glanced at John.

"Excuse me." He said, and he hurried away.

Serena watched as he exited the restaurant.

"Have you ever considered," Serena paused as she tried to think of a tactful way to say what she wanted to say, "Maybe, trying to get to know someone in a more personal way."

Sherlock looked at her like she was speaking a foreign language. "Personal?"

"You know, asking questions, being conversational." Sherlock heaved a sigh, and Serena resisted the temptation to roll her eyes.

"How dreadfully inefficient." He said.

"But you find out more about a person." Serena said.

"Only with people like you."

Serena hid her disbelief. "What does that mean?"

"Oh, nothing." Their waitress came back, and Sherlock looked out the window.

It seemed like she had come back awfully quickly. And was she wearing lipstick now? Serena saw their waitress's brown eyes wandering carelessly over Sherlock's unaware face. Serena knew that look, and she smiled down at her lap.

"Why are you smiling?" Sherlock asked her.

Serena peeked over her shoulder at the back of the woman.

"She likes you." She said calmly.

"Who?"

"Our waitress."

"I would have noticed."

"You would have, if you weren't so busy looking out there." Serena leaned her head toward the window.

"She only glances over here every five seconds." Serena said. "She could be a bit more subtle about it."

Sherlock looked at the woman through his eyelashes.

"Don't be obvious." Serena said. "She'll think you like her back." She heard the click of heels behind her and sighed.

"Now you've done it." She murmured as the waitress stepped beside their table and set down the receipt.

"Have a nice day." She said to Sherlock with a winning smile, and Serena grabbed the receipt and Sherlock's card. Another slip of paper fell onto her lap, and she picked it up.

A smile dawned on her face as she read the note.

"What is it?" Sherlock asked.

"It's for you." She said, handing him the paper, along with his card and the receipt.

She watched his face intently as he read the note. She knew what it read. A number and one sentence.

_I get off at eleven._

Sherlock's face was priceless. He looked stunned, all his defenses slipping for a brief second. And in that second, Serena wanted to delve into his mind, see who he truly was. But something stopped her. Her conscious, ever present as that nagging doubt in her mind, told her to wait for him to tell her. As if he ever would.

"Ready?" She asked. He nodded, stood up, and they walked out of the café.

"John?" Serena asked, and he came around the corner.

"What happened?" He asked as he took in their faces.

Sherlock reached out with the paper in hand. John read it slowly, his eyes lighting up.

"Rather forward, isn't she?" Serena said lightly.

Sherlock scoffed.

"Welcome to the real world, Sherlock." John said, running to catch up with them. Serena walked behind steadily, her ears straining to pick up any of their conversation.

"Maybe you should meet her." John suggested.

"Her? Why?"

"It'll be good for you, Sherlock."

"Why I would want to engage in pointless activities with some woman who works in a French café?"

"Because…" John sighed.

"I told you the first day we met. I am married to my work." Sherlock said, sticking his arm out for a taxi.

Serena got in the opposite seat of them and pretended she heard nothing.

"Do you have any ideas about the case?" She asked.

"Three. Maybe two." Sherlock said.

"Mind sharing?" She asked.

"They are incomplete theories."

"So, no."

"Not yet."

Serena glanced at the time. "I should really get home."

"It's still light out. You should come back to Baker St. with us." John said.

"I'm sure you have better things to do." Serena said.

"Nonsense. I'm sure Mrs. Hudson will relish the company you would provide." John said.

Serena thought about his proposal. She wanted to and at the same time, felt herself dreading it. She had lived on her own for so long having friends was a strange concept.

"For a little while." She said.

Three hours later, Serena was still at their flat, watching bad reality television with Sherlock and John.

"Related." Sherlock said.

"Brother and sister. Fraternal twins, actually." Serena agreed.

"But they lived in two different countries?" John said.

"He's adopted." Serena said.

"She is too." Sherlock added.

"But they were dating."

"Rather unfortunate circumstance." Serena remarked.

"How do you know?" John asked.

"Their relationship." Serena and Sherlock said at the exact same time.

They glanced at each other.

"Their relationship." John said.

Serena tore her gaze back to the TV. Her heart was beating slightly faster, and she didn't know why.

"They've known each other for two weeks, and yet they finish each other's sentences, have a "connection". Rather odd for two adults who just met." Sherlock said.

Serena glanced at the clock on the wall, and straightened.

"It's really late. I should get home." She said, standing up.

"Thank you for everything." She said.

"Do you want to call a cab?" John asked.

"No, no, that's fine." Serena said, remembering her episode earlier. "I only live a few blocks away."

"It's dangerous." John said.

"I can take care of myself." Serena said, hurrying down the stairs.

"We have to meet tomorrow morning. More investigations!" Sherlock shouted down the stairs.

"I'll come by!" She shouted back as she opened the door.


	8. Protection

**This is an exciting one, I promise. Please, please, please review. Thank you to my regular reviewers!**

**Enjoy :)**

The street was wet. It must have rained while she was in their flat.

She thought about Sherlock and John. They were a strange pairing, so different in so many ways. But they fit together. It wasn't a strange thing that she had thought they were a couple.

Sherlock was the one she wanted to figure out. She knew John; the one everyone liked, caring, friendly, and more than a little flirty. But Sherlock was a closed, padlocked, and hidden book. She knew people. She knew what made them act the way they did, why they said each word, and they never surprised her.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. She had been surprised once, and she had paid the price.

NO.

Thinking about the past hurt her. It made her wrists ache and her eyes burn and her heart shut down.

She didn't like surprises anymore. She liked the ones she could see through: Lestrade, John, Mrs. Hudson. But…Sherlock was the one she wanted to know.

She just had to make trouble for herself.

Serena was so distracted she didn't notice the slow rasp of footsteps behind her, or the sound of low breathing. She didn't see the hand reaching for her.

She noticed when an arm closed around her throat, and she forgot to inhale. Her attacker pinned her left arm behind her back with lightning quickness, and fear paralyzed her muscles.

Instinct took the driver's seat. Her right elbow drove backwards into his side, and he grunted. She forced her heel into his foot, and his grip loosened slightly. She instantly whirled around to face him and kneed him between the legs. He let out a groan of pain.

"Bitch!" He hissed, and his fist connected with her cheekbone. She gasped in pain, but her footing stayed secure as she whipped to the side.

His face was unshaven, his blond hair long and tied in a ponytail. Serena saw that much in the dim light before his hand shot forward to grab her again.

Her palm hit his Adam's apple before he could. He staggered backward, retching uncontrollably. Serena's heel hit his knee, and she heard a crack. He screamed, but she didn't have time for remorse. She turned and sprinted away.

Her hands were trembling as she fumbled with her key at the lock. It finally slid in, and she walked into her apartment. Her cheek stung, and her heart was beating at machine-gun speed. She locked the door behind her.

She collapsed on the couch and took out her phone.

"Serena?" Lestrade's groggy voice came over the line. "It's nearly one. What is it?"

Serena took a deep breath. "If you go to Brighton Street, you'll find a man. He has blond hair. He'll have been beaten."

"How do you know?" Lestrade asked, his voice sharpening with interest.

"Because he just attacked me."

"Are you alright?" His voice was so concerned. It was so sweet.

"A couple bruises, nothing major. You might want an ambulance for the other guy."

There was a long pause.

"We'll need to ask questions." Lestrade finally said.

"Tomorrow. Please?" Serena said. Her eyelids were already getting heavy.

"Tomorrow." Lestrade said firmly. "Are you sure you're alright? You don't want to…call anyone to come over?"

"No, I'm fine." Serena yawned.

"I'll, uh, leave you to it." Lestrade said.

"See you tomorrow." Serena said, and she hung up.

She lay out on the couch, grabbing the blanket and pulling it around her. She was asleep in seconds.

(Sherlock's POV)

Why was the sun so bright? It was so early…

"Sherlock!" John's voice was so aggravating. Sherlock wasn't a morning person.

"Sherlock, get up!" John said, and Sherlock groaned. He wrapped his sheet around himself and stood up. The sheet dragged behind him listlessly, and his hand brushed his curls away from his face.

"What is it?" He asked.

"Your phone has been ringing non-stop for the last ten minutes." John said, tossing him the phone. Sherlock caught it without looking.

"Lestrade, Lestrade, Lestrade…doesn't he know to text me by now?"

His phone vibrated again. Lestrade.

"This better be important." Sherlock said crossly.

"It is." Lestrade's voice was serious. "It's Serena."

Sherlock's eyebrows furrowed, and John looked at him questioningly.

"She was mugged last night on her way home. I'm on my way over there right now." Lestrade continued.

"We're coming." Sherlock said.

"I figured you'd want to." Lestrade said. "She lives…"

"I know where she lives." Sherlock said, and he hung up the phone.

"What does he want?" John asked.

"Serena, mugged, going to apartment." Sherlock said, standing up and grabbing his coat. He stepped into his bedroom and shed the sheet.

"Is she alright?" John asked.

"How the hell should I know?" Sherlock said. He was surprised to hear emotion in his voice.

"I'll get my coat." John said quietly as Sherlock put on his pants and his coat.

They hurried out of Baker Street together, Sherlock slightly ahead.

Sherlock saw the two police cars a block away. He jumped out of the cab and hurried to the flat door. He heard Lestrade's voice from down the hall.

"What happened?" He asked. Serena's head shot up in surprise from where she sat on the couch. She was dressed in a long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans, her bare feet tucked under her. Her hair was flattened over one side of her face.

"What are you doing here?" She asked.

"Lestrade called me." Sherlock said. "Now, what happened?"

"I was just trying to figure that out." Lestrade looked at Serena. "I got the hospital report. Two broken toes, bruised ribs, shattered kneecap, among other lesser injuries. He could barely walk. What did you do, throw him in front of a car?"

"He snuck up behind me. I reacted. What else is there to know?" Serena said. She sounded tired, and didn't even glance at Sherlock as he sat down next to her. He could see something hidden skillfully behind her hair as she shifted her position. His hand reached for it and gently brushed her hair out of her face.

She twisted to face him quickly, but not before he saw the purpling bruise on her cheekbone.

"It's nothing." She said quickly.

"Then why hide it?" Sherlock asked.

"I didn't want to worry anyone." Serena said, flicking her gaze to John and Lestrade. They both looked appalled, but Sherlock didn't care. He wanted them to see.

"If you want to know what happened, here it is. I was distracted. He wrapped his arm around my neck. He trapped me. I elbowed him, stepped on his foot, kneed him in a sensitive area. He punched me. He was angry." Her voice was so bitter. "So I punched him in the throat and broke his knee and ran."

"You know self-defense?" John said, coming closer and reaching tentatively for her cheek.

"Yes." Serena said. She dutifully turned to the side.

"It's not broken. Do you have any other injuries?" John asked, and she shook her head.

"This wasn't a mugging." Sherlock said.

"I know." Serena said.

"What do you mean?" Lestrade asked.

"She didn't have a purse. She wasn't using her phone because she didn't have it. The man grabbed her from behind. Those aren't signs of a thief. That added to the fact he didn't give up easily suggests something else." Sherlock said. Realization dawned on Lestrade's face.

"Look, I don't know if I can get him for attempted rape, not on this evidence. But I'll try." He said gently to Serena, who nodded.

The police cleared out within minutes. Soon it was only John, Serena, and Sherlock. John, who's face had been getting graver every second, finally spun around angrily.

"If we had insisted you take a cab, or if we had walked you home…" He said.

"Some other girl would have gotten it." Serena said. John didn't look convinced.

"I can play this game to, John. If I hadn't come back to your apartment, if we hadn't gone to dinner, if I swallowed my pride and accepted your help…" Serena said. "I'm okay. I survived. Blaming yourself won't change anything."

Sherlock cast his gaze around the apartment. His eyes fixed on an instrument on the far side of the room, taking up a large portion of the sparse space.

"You play?" He asked.

"Mmm-hmm." Serena said, standing up. She walked toward the piano calmly. Very calm for someone who had just been attacked.

"Do you?" She asked, then shook her head.

"No, wait, let me guess." She seemed to think for a second.

"Violin." She said.

"How?"

"Your personality."

"My personality?"

"Oh, you know, calm, reserved, old-fashioned. The violin."

Sherlock sat next to her on the bench, and John moved behind them.

"You aren't going to make me play, are you?" She asked.

"Why not?" John said. Serena sighed and grabbed a few loose sheets of paper. She set them up quickly in a messy stack.

"Turn pages for me?" She asked Sherlock, who nodded. He didn't recognize the piece.

Her fingers didn't press the keys, they danced over them. Sherlock listened as she played each note with _something_. Something he could never involve in his music because he, Sherlock Holmes, didn't understand it.

He turned the page when he was supposed to. Serena kept playing, never missing a beat. The piece was four pages long. The room was silent as she finished. John didn't move. Sherlock wasn't sure

"What was it?" He asked.

"What was what?" Serena asked in confusion.

"That!" He gestured at the piece.

"I-I don't understand." Serena said, looking at John.

"How did you play it?" Sherlock asked. He was determined to know what it was.

"The music? I learned it." Serena said.

"Oh, don't be dense. Anyone can play." Sherlock sneered. "You played it with something."

Serena's eyes widened in understanding. "I play with passion." She said finally.

"That can't be it."

"I swear."

"Don't swear."

"Fine. But it is emotion."

"Emotion is useless. Emotion doesn't make music sound more beautiful."

"Emotion isn't useless. It _is_ passion. I know passion."

"You do? According to some people, you're a…what was it, John? A cold fish?" Serena's face turned to stone as Sherlock's tongue got away from him.

John moved to her side. "Stop it, Sherlock."

"Listening to Daniel, are you?" She asked frostily.

"Passion! Ridiculous."

Serena stood up, moving away from Sherlock. "What would you know about passion? You think I'm a cold fish? Take a look in the mirror."

Sherlock opened his mouth, but she plowed through his words. "Do you even know what passion is? Love is? Have you ever been in love?"

"Love is weakness."

Serena turned away from him. All he could see was her rigid back.

"You don't know what it's like, being in love. Being sought after by men who want nothing more than to get into your pants. And that isn't even the start." Her voice cut off abruptly.

Sherlock hadn't thought she was close to tears. Was she about to say something about her past? He inched forward a fraction, and her head twisted around violently.

"You know what, take Daniel's word as gospel. Maybe then you'll stop prying." She said coldly.

He was wrong. There were tears in her eyes.

"Serena…" John said weakly, and she turned back around, her arms stiff at her sides.

"I think you need to leave. Thank you for coming by." She said, her voice icily polite, unshaking.

Sherlock turned and strode out. He didn't hear John following.

"John!" He shouted, and he heard footsteps coming slowly after him.

"What the hell, Sherlock?" John asked the moment they stepped outside.

"What?"

"You know very well what! Why did you have to get into an argument with her for?"

"She was overreacting."

"She was just attacked, Sherlock! I don't care how calm she seemed, she was probably in an insecure place." John grabbed his shoulder. Sherlock faced him. He looked upset.

"You can't blow up at people every time you don't understand something."

"Don't be absurd."

"Is it absurd? Look, I know the closest you've come to a relationship is with The Woman, and that wasn't exactly passionate. The great Sherlock Holmes doesn't understand something, and that worries you."

Sherlock scoffed and turned back to the road.

"Sherlock, listen to me! Love is as real as passion. Are you going to tell me that neither exists? Because that music was played beautifully. And if that argument wasn't passionate, than I don't know what is."

Sherlock slowly turned around, his brain mulling over the words. He hated admitting he was wrong. He looked up at the apartment building. A figure was leaning against one of the windows. He would recognize Serena anywhere. Her back was pressed against it, her head bowed. She didn't see him.

"What should I do?" Sherlock asked. He needed her to solve the puzzle. Some corner of his mind presented him the facts; that Serena treated him better than a lot of people, that she would make a good friend. But he didn't need friends.

"Apologize." John said, and Sherlock took out his phone.

"What are you doing?"

"Sending her a text. You have her number, don't you?"

"A text?" John sighed, and he reached into his pocket for his own phone. He showed Sherlock the screen.

"Thank you." Sherlock quickly typed an apology onto the screen and sent it. He watched Serena at the window, but she didn't move.

"Give her a bit." John said.

They got into the taxi.

"What are you trying to get from her?" He asked Sherlock.

"Information."

"About?"

"Her past."

"Something she obviously doesn't want you to know about."

"But that's what makes it fun."

"She isn't a game, Sherlock. She's a living, breathing human being."

"She's interesting."

"Do you care about her, or just what she knows?"

Sherlock didn't answer as they speeded off to Baker Street.


	9. Forgive

**Sorry for the delay everybody. I'm currently in the gorgeous (and slightly smoggy) city of L.A. attending an acting session. It's great so far and everybody there is fantastic. **

**Sorry in advance for the fact that if you're waiting for them to fall madly in love, you'll have to wait. I'm not going to make it easy. They fight quite a lot because they are so alike in some ways and so different in others. There are inklings of feelings that Sherlock doesn't recognize and Serena refuses to believe for a while...until something happens that changes everything.**

**I love torturing you guys. Enjoy reading this chapter. It's mostly filler except for the very end. **

Serena was slumped against the cold window. What was it about Sherlock that made her lose all self-control? Why did she feel so bad about it?

She wanted to apologize already. But maybe this was for the best. Sherlock was toxic, not trustworthy, not her type.

She nearly laughed at the lie she told herself. Sherlock was exactly her type; mysterious, lonely and needing a friend, handsome. She was falling down the same road, stuck in the same cycle.

Her phone buzzed. She stared at it until it went dark. Heaving herself off the window seemed like such an effort.

But she had never given up before, and she wasn't about to now. She stretched for the phone. The screen blinked on at her touch. Unknown number, but she knew who it was.

**_I'm sorry. If you want to continue, come to Baker St. at noon. If not, I understand._**_**–SH**_

Serena stared at the text for minutes as she absorbed it. Sherlock Holmes, apologizing? To her?

She was asking the wrong questions. Why was he apologizing? Because he actually cared? Or because she was another unknown, another riddle? She couldn't let herself think he actually cared, but she needed him. She needed his help to solve her case.

No need to text back, though. He needed her just as much if not more than she needed him. She would hold that over him as long as she could.

The door to 221B Baker St. seemed larger than normal. She twisted the doorknob and walked right up the stairs.

Sherlock was expecting her. John was too. He had a cup of tea waiting.

"You came."

"Obviously."

Sherlock looked to the seat across from him, and Serena sat gingerly on the edge.

"Locked or unlocked?" He asked.

"Why so hospitable?"

"I'm beginning to understand you."

"Doubtful, since you apologized. I frustrate you, don't I? It's incredibly annoying that you can't see into my past or read me." Serena said.

"That's not why I texted you. I texted you because…"

"Oh, don't give me that bullshit. We both know why I'm still here, why you let me participate in this case."

Sherlock placed his fingers together, resting them against his mouth.

"Look, I'm okay with working with you. I have absolutely nothing against you. And if you want to attempt to find out about me, fine. But don't pretend to be my friend if you don't want to be."

"And if I want to be your friend?"

The question threw her off guard. He always managed to mess with her carefully thought-out plan.

"Sherlock Holmes doesn't have friends." Serena said.

"Ah, correction. I have one."

"Yes, I am still here." John added.

Sherlock stared at her. His eyes were still electric blue-green. "What is it about me that makes it so hard for us to be friends?"

"I don't have many."

"And yet you've befriended John in a matter of days. You seem close with Lestrade, and with your patients. So why not me?"

"I can figure them out. I know what their intentions are."

"And not me?"

"You knew that."

"True, I did. So, you, like me, don't like the unknown."

Serena paused. "I don't like surprises."

"But we both feel the urge to figure out the other."

Serena nodded.

"Then why don't we just tell everything here, right now? It'd be much simpler."

Serena smiled. "I'm not one for taking the easy way out."

"I thought as much." Sherlock sighed. "Fine. We'll get on with the case, shall we?"

"Yes, let's."

"So, what do we know so far?" Sherlock asked as John handed Serena a cup of tea. It warmed up her hands comfortingly. She still didn't know what to make of her latest day with Sherlock Holmes, but at least she could count on John giving her tea.

"All the patients have severe phobias, and they all had counseling done by Serena." John said.

"Yes, but what else. Go over the files again."

"Traumatic experiences?" Serena mentioned.

"Yes, but no."

"Two of the victims lived in Manchester." John threw out a few minutes later.

"No."

"What else is there?" Serena asked.

"Where were they killed? Random apartments, or a more exact spot."

John took out a map and laid it out on a table. "The first victim was killed on Ocean Street. Second, on Heaven Tree Close, and the third, on Thee Road."

"Completely different areas. Nothing there."

"So what's the connection?" Serena asked.

"Oh, there are two obvious ones. The fear and you. But we're missing something."

"How did he, or she, do it? Make them kill themselves, I mean."

"I don't know!" Sherlock straightened. "I need to go to the morgue."

"The morgue? Why?"

"I need to test a theory. Coming?"

Serena shrugged. "Why not?"

The morgue was very white, cluttered, and clean. No one seemed to be around as Sherlock headed straight for the table. Serena didn't bother to ask whether he had permission. Sherlock did what he wanted when he wanted to do it.

"Oh, hello." A bright and friendly voice said, and Serena turned around.

"Do you need help, or something?" The woman asked.

"Ah, Molly, the very person I was looking for." Sherlock said.

"Me?"

"Yes. I need the bodies of the three suicide victims from the past two weeks."

"Which ones?"

"Andrew Potter, Mark Hopkins, and Cassidy Sharp."

"They've been checked in already, I'm afraid."

Sherlock's gaze turned wondering, and his head tilted to the side.

"You've changed clothes."

Molly blushed slightly. "I went shopping over the weekend."

"They suit you." Sherlock said appraisingly.

"That's nice." Molly smiled.

"I really need those bodies. It's very important. Could you please fetch them for me? As a favor." Sherlock said, staring into Molly's eyes. She flushed and nodded, spinning on her heel.

Serena had been watched the entire exchange with an expression of amusement. "That wasn't very nice."

"What do you mean?"

"Playing with her emotions to get what you want."

"Oh, she knows how important this is." Sherlock said, and Serena shook her head wryly.

"I've wheeled out the bodies." Molly said as she reentered the room.

"Fantastic!" Sherlock said.

Serena had a smile on her face as she followed him into the adjoining room.

"What are you looking for?" She asked as Sherlock approached one of the bodies.

"A post-mortem was done, correct?" He asked.

"Yes. Sorry, who are you?" Molly asked Serena.

"Um…" Serena glanced at Sherlock.

He understood her look. "You can trust her."

Serena looked at the puzzled Molly. "I'm Serena. If anyone else asks, I'm Amanda."

Molly nodded. "Alright."

"She is my client." Sherlock said. "Now, were there any abnormalities?"

"Well, they all had an unusually high blood glucose level. Their veins were constricted, and pupils dilated to enormous amounts." Molly answered as she looked at the clipboard she held.

"All signs of extreme fear." Sherlock looked at Andrew carefully. "His skin is blotchy. Hives."

"He didn't have any allergies." Serena said.

"I need to do a blood test." Sherlock said.

Serena waited with John while Sherlock and Molly performed the test. She had no desire to watch.

"Is he always like this?" She asked John.

"Always."

"How did you become his friend?"

"I've known him for fifteen months."

"It takes that long?"

"I thought you didn't want to be friends."

Serena cursed inwardly. She had slipped again.

"I never said I did. But I do need to be able to get along with him."

"He already likes you."

Serena stared at John. "Where were you for the fight in my apartment?"

"I know. He hates being wrong. But he knows he was. I managed to slap a bit of sense into him. He said he was sorry, didn't he?"

"I'm another experiment to him. He's like a child with a Rubik's Cube."

"That's how he views the entire world. He admires the fact he can't see through you as much as it frustrates him. He thinks most of the world is moronic. You're one of the lucky few who isn't."

"Why do I get the feeling that most of the people he finds brilliant are mass murderers?" Serena sighed.

"Got it!" Sherlock exclaimed.

"Got what?" Serena asked.

"Novocain in their blood."

"The anesthetic?" John asked.

"They were drugged. Drugged with a needle too small to be detected. They would've been knocked unconscious in seconds with a strong enough dose, and would've come around within hours. Perfect for a kidnapping."

"So…"

"The killer kidnapped his victims and took them to deserted flats. He left them there, but he was close by. He had to do something after they killed themselves. They were deathly afraid. High glucose, the pupils, and the constricted veins are signs of that. The question is how he got them so afraid that they committed suicide." Sherlock bowed his head thoughtfully.

"By planting their phobias." Serena said, and Sherlock's head shot up.

"Yes." He hissed.

"The black paint. He blocked out the light from the room."

"To create the illusion. Oh, this is brilliant."

"And the dust outline. It could've been a boom box, or strobe light. To simulate a storm."

"Spiders and snakes would've been easy enough. He only had to buy them by the bulk."

"The serial killer literally scared them to death." John said.

"The question now is will he strike again." Serena asked.

"Well, that, and the fact that we don't know who he is."

"Are there any clues?"

"None. No fingerprints, cars sighted, unusual reports."

"We could track the purchase of the creatures."

"Probably done online. He could've used an Internet café. Virtually untraceable."

"Let's just assume he'll go with more of the phobia patients. Do we know anyone who would love to get rid of them?"

"Well, Daniel." John said.

"Daniel? He's not a killer." Serena said.

"He said the patients were liabilities on society. Maybe he decided to take matters into his own hands."

Serena was doubtful. Daniel may be a jerk, but he didn't seem like the type to go on a killing spree, or the type to be clever enough to figure all this out.

"We have no leads." Sherlock said. He didn't seem convinced either.

"Then let's go." John said. He seemed excited at the prospect of facing Daniel again.

"Thank you." Serena said to Molly, who smiled at her. Sherlock was already out the door.


	10. Questions

**hey guys, i really hope you enjoy this one. I enjoyed writing it. Serena gets a mysterious gift, and ****lashes out at Sherlock when he strays too close to the truth...enjoy!**

The cab that dropped them off peeled away from the curb as soon as John closed the door.

"Daniel should still be in. This time, try not to traumatize any small children." Serena said to Sherlock, who promptly tucked his gun into a deep pocket, invisible to other eyes.

Serena headed upstairs, already dreading the moment when Daniel saw her. She could already picture it in her mind. She had so many things she wished she could say to him, but they stayed within her mind, unspoken.

She walked into her office, and there he was, standing next to a bouquet of…

"Oh, Daniel…you shouldn't have." She said halfheartedly.

Daniel glanced back. "Don't pretend you don't know anything about these. So this is why you keeping rejecting me. You have a boyfriend."

Serena looked at John and Sherlock, who were both staring at her questioningly.

"No, Daniel, I am very, very single. I keep rejecting you for a different reason." She said, examining the yellow roses closer. There were thirteen of them. Kind of an odd number, if she thought about it.

"There wasn't a note?" She asked Daniel, who shook his head.

"Probably another one of your admirers." He said with a smirk.

"Hmm." Serena said. She didn't want the flowers. Something felt off about them. She didn't think they were from someone who wished her well.

"They look good there. I'll just leave them here." She said.

"Why not take them?" Daniel asked.

"Allergies."

Sherlock looked skeptical, but he didn't question her answer. "I have questions for you." He said brusquely to Daniel.

"What, am I a suspect now?" Daniel said with a laugh, looking at Serena as if inviting her to share the joke.

She didn't laugh.

"How amazingly perceptive of you." Sherlock said sarcastically, and he walked into Daniel's office. Daniel trailed behind Serena.

"Amanda, did you tell them to investigate me?" He asked.

"They reached that conclusion on their own."

Sherlock looked around the office. Serena could feel him soaking in every detail.

"So, you told us you thought the patients were liabilities on society." John said.

"No I didn't."

"Yes, you did. You can stop trying to impress her now. Our question is whether or not you decided to remove the liabilities." John said, and Daniel scoffed.

"Who, me? I was kidding around, you know. You guys take everything so seriously." Daniel said.

Serena rolled her eyes. "If you want, I'll step outside." She said, and she walked into the main hallway, closing the door behind her. She could see Daniel's mouth moving, but had no idea what he was saying. He didn't look too happy.

_Good._

No, she didn't mean that. Daniel didn't deserve anything Sherlock deduced from him. Probably the multiple girlfriends, smoking, wealthy, just took a trip, and about to be fired.

She added on the about to be fired part.

When Sherlock came out a few seconds later, he stared at Serena like he'd put another piece together.

"No luck?" She looked toward Daniel, who was rotating in his office chair slowly.

"Of course not. I spent the whole time thinking about you."

John sighed, and Serena smiled cheekily at the unaware Sherlock. "I'm flattered." She said.

"I-I didn't mean…"

"No, I knew exactly what you meant. So, what else have you figured out?" She asked tauntingly as they got into the elevator.

"You and Lestrade know each other pretty well, don't you?"

John stared at Serena. "You two weren't…you, know, together, were you?"

Serena laughed. "Lestrade and I? Isn't he married?"

"He left his wife again." Sherlock said.

"Good for him." Serena said, still laughing slightly. "You're correct. I asked Lestrade a favor when I first moved. He made sure Serena Gambles didn't exist, and replaced her with Amanda."

"Why?"

"I was sick of my name."

"Hilarious."

"I should consider a career change."

Sherlock didn't say another word. Maybe that's why Serena felt compelled to tell him the slightest bit of the truth. She warped it a tad, just enough to stop him from inquiring.

"The real reason that I needed to escape was because being Serena Gambles was ruining my life. No one cared when she disappeared."

"Serena Gambles is more interesting than Amanda." Sherlock remarked.

Serena looks at Sherlock. The words chilled her to the bone, and she could remember why. That part of her life had been buried so deep it fell on her from above.

"Yeah, well," She said as a way of answering.

They walked downstairs silently, Serena trying to shake off the shivers running up and down her spine.

"What was with the roses?" John asked, and Serena shrugged.

"Who knows? It wouldn't be the first time." She said without thinking.

"The first time?"

She blushed. "Nothing. Never mind. The only strange thing is that they were yellow roses."

"It's a popular flower."

"Red, maybe, but yellow? It's strange because they're my least favorite flower. Yellow roses."

"You have a least favorite flower?" Sherlock asked.

"Too boring for you?" Serena said.

"No one has a least favorite flower."

"Except me."

"Do you have a favorite?"

"No."

Sherlock rolled his eyes as if to say Serena made no sense.

"Are you really allergic, or…" John asked, but faltered at a withering look from Sherlock.

A cab pulled up, and Serena slid into a seat opposite Sherlock and John.

"About the case…" She paused to find a way to say this tactfully, "We don't have any leads, do we?"

Sherlock shrugged. "We don't need one. All serial killers want desperately to get caught. We just have to wait for this one."

"But, if he wants to be caught, won't he commit another murder?" Serena asked.

"Most likely." Serena blanched.

"Sherlock! You didn't think to tell the police this." John said.

"Oh, right. We have to go through them."

Serena felt anger bubbling up inside her. "You do remember that the killer is targeting my patients?"

"Yes, I do remember." Sherlock said.

"And you didn't think to, I don't know, warn the police before now?"

Sherlock stopped talking. He took out his phone and Serena saw him tapping away.

"There, happy? I sent a message to Lestrade. I'm sure he'll track your patients. If one does disappear, we'll know, and we'll be able to save them."

Serena wasn't so sure, but she didn't have a choice but to trust the police.

"I hope you are right." She said.

"Try to have a little faith."

"It's hard to have faith in people when they always betray you." The words tumbled from her tongue, and she cursed herself inwardly. She had let her guard fall.

"What do you mean? Who's betrayed you?" Sherlock pounced on the words.

"No one." Serena said. "Is it just me, or is it hot in here?"

"Why do you always wear long-sleeves?"

"God! Do you always analyze everything everyone says? If that's true, it's no wonder nobody likes you."

John's eyes went wide, and Serena instantly felt overwhelmingly guilty. Sherlock wouldn't meet her eyes.

"Shit." She swore. "Shit, I'm so sorry."

He met her eyes, and they were pale green, chips of jade, frozen and unfeeling, masking the whirlwind of hurt she knew was there, because she understood how he worked.

"I'm going to get off." Serena said. "Stop the cab." The cab slowed down, and she jumped out before it stopped moving.

She shoved a twenty at the cabbie, and hurried toward her building.

She walked up the stairs slowly, fumbling in her pocket for her keys. She reached her door, still looking down at her pocket. The key slid into the lock, and she headed inside, closing and locking the door behind her.

She collapsed on her couch, pulling the blanket around her. She always, always, always screwed things up. Every time he got close to a secret, she lashed out. She never got angry with anyone else, but around Sherlock, it was as if her emotions were turned to full power. She couldn't control anything. But it was her fault, and she felt terrible.

How hurt he looked, hiding the pain but not quite well enough. She had surprised him. He hadn't had time to cover it up before she saw it.

The pit in her stomach made her feel like she was about to hurl. She really did care about John and Sherlock. They made her feel wanted again. She hadn't felt wanted for a very long time.

She pressed her fingers against her scalp, nearly to the point of grabbing her hair and ripping it out. There had to be something she could do. Something to apologize.

She wasn't sure why her mind jumped to that. But it brought a faint smile to her face, and that was reason enough to do it.

She knocked on his door several times, balancing the box on one hand. She could hear the sound of a shower running through the wall. Maybe it was John. That could explain why no one was answering.

She knocked again and waited for a minute or two.

She rapped hard on the door. "Go away!" A surly voice said. She hit the door with her entire fist resolutely.

She saw the doorknob turning and took a deep breath.


	11. Eyes

**Hello everybody. Now, one of the answers to many questions will be answered.**

**What is in the box?**

**Well, Emma (guest) and kykyxstandler, plus a few more of you, I'm guessing, you'll be happy to know that all you have to do is read on...**

Sherlock opened the door. It took Serena a second to realize he wasn't wearing any clothes. He was wrapped in a white sheet from head to toe.

He began to close the door again, like a child, and she stuck her foot in the door.

She winced. "Wait, Sherlock, please." He stared at her through the space in the door, and opened it slightly. She didn't move her foot away, too afraid he'd just slam the door in her face.

His eyes were still that hardest of green. Why were they beautiful even when he was angry?

"I brought cupcakes." Serena said, holding forward the white box. Sherlock looked at it, pondering the peace offering.

He sighed, turning around. Serena knew that was the best invite she was going to get. She walked in behind him, still holding the box.

Sherlock sat down on the couch, staring at her still. She set down the box on the table and sat on the opposite side, her knees pulled up to her chest.

"I'm sorry." She said. "I lost control. I lashed out. I do that to people who get close to me. I didn't mean what I said. A lot of people like and are grateful to you. What I said made me no better than that awful Donovan woman."

Sherlock stared at her coolly.

"Look, I know you don't see me as a friend. Your only friend is John. But I wanted you to know that I don't have many friends. A lot of people just don't get it. But you seem to. Get it, I mean."

Sherlock's mouth twitched upward. "You could add how you think I'm exceptionally brilliant."

Serena resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "You are stunningly and superbly intelligent."

Sherlock nodded.

"Can we eat those cupcakes now?" Serena asked, and she picked up the box and headed to the kitchen table.

It was covered in beakers, test tubes, and plastic bags. Serena started on clearing everything, Sherlock hovering behind her.

"What is all this junk?" She asked, moving a bag full of bloody…something. She thought they might be toes.

"My experiments."

"Well, your experiments are taking over your kitchen." Serena spun around and froze.

Sherlock was inches away from her. His eyes locked onto hers. She felt herself blushing, but she didn't feel like moving away. His sheet was beneath her toes. She really _should_ move away.

"Um," She coughed, "shall we?"

"Of course." Sherlock wasn't moving.

"Yeah, we should." Serena tore her entire body toward the table, trying to ignore the way her heart was beating against her chest like a bird trying to escape a cage.

Sherlock looked confused as he sat down opposite her. She opened the box, revealing three enormous cupcakes.

"Why _are_ you wearing a sheet?" Serena asked as she picked up one.

Sherlock shrugged. "No point in staying dressed."

"John's in the shower?"

"He does that a lot."

Serena laughed joyously. The noise from the shower disappeared, and a few seconds John stepped out, dressed in a long pinstriped bathrobe.

"Serena! What…I…" He stumbled over the words as Serena gave a little wave, her mouth full of cake. Sherlock picked on up gingerly.

"Serena brought cupcakes. I forgave her." He said, taking a tentative bite.

"I got you one to." Serena said to John, who peered into the box.

"What is it?"

"A hedgehog! See, there are its little hands, and its nose, and there are its eyes. And the frosting is all spiked like its fur."

"Cupcakes are a little juvenile, aren't they?" He pointed out.

Serena shrugged, taking another bite. John sat down next to Sherlock, taking the cupcake with him.

"So you apologized?"

"Profusely." Serena licked the frosting off her fingertips, savoring every morsel. Sherlock and John just stared at her.

"What? I'm hungry." She exclaimed.

John laughed. "As good as these were, I should call for some takeout. Staying for dinner, Serena?"

"I'd love to." Serena said.

"Let's see…Chinese?"

Sherlock shrugged.

"Do you ever eat?" Serena asked him.

"Digestion slows me down. I only eat when I'm not on a case."

"Makes sense, I suppose. Speaking of cases, are we working tonight, or is this just pleasure?"

"Whatever. We don't have any clue what's going on anyway." Sherlock sounded sour.

"We'll find something." Serena said reassuringly. "I promise. It's like you said, he wants to get caught."

Sherlock groaned. "This one is different! It's like he has a different goal. He wants to get credit, but he wants to escape, and there's something else."

"How the hell do you know that?"

"It'll take too long to explain. But I know serial killers."

Serena didn't want to say what she wanted to. Sherlock saw her expression. "What is it? Be honest."

"You've never…considered…"

"Never."

"Never?"

"Well, once, I saw this hideous bright pink scarf..."

It took a few seconds for Serena to realize that he was joking, and when she did she cracked a smile. She liked how he understood what she was saying before anyone else could.

"You do have remarkable self-control, for a…" He said.

"For a idiot." Serena said, unafraid that he might agree.

"No. I was going to say for a person who has so many idiots in her life."

Serena smiled. "That's sweet."

Sherlock looked surprised. "It's the truth."

"What about you? How do you stand it?"

"Years of practice."

"Don't you ever feel tired of waiting for people to catch up with you?" Serena took another sip of the beer.

"Constantly."

"Then why choose to be a detective rather than a scientist?"

"Why choose to be a psychologist?"

Serena already had her answer. "Because I want to help people."

"Maybe that's why I chose this. Maybe because being a scientist is boring and I hate boring."

Serena smiled. "The world's only consulting detective. Has a certain ring to it."

She had been avoiding meeting his eyes, but Sherlock didn't avoid doing anything. He caught her in his gaze, and she didn't look away.

"Did you ever realize how your eyes change color?" She said in a half-whisper, trying to keep her voice totally steady. She wasn't sure she succeeded, but Sherlock didn't react.

"No, I can't say I have." Sherlock's eyes were searching hers, peering into her soul.

She shut down every gateway into it, turning her face blank and lifeless.

Serena heard John coming back in and felt her lungs exhale in relief.

"Strange." Sherlock said.

"Hmm?"

"You are afraid of being trapped, yet you lock away your emotions."

"Isn't that what you do?"

"I don't feel the way you feel."

John came back in, carrying the boxes of take-away.

"I bought a few different things." John glanced up. "Why are you two staring at each other like that?"

Serena looked at John. "Like what?"

He frowned at her, setting down the boxes. It was the disapproval in his eyes that made Serena curl up on herself. She knew what he was thinking. But that wasn't it at all.

She ate quickly, barely saying a word. The moment her plate was clean, she stood up.

"I have to go. Call me if you find anything." She said quickly, turning and walking out the door before either of them could say a word.

It was dark outside. Her bruised cheek stung in the cold air.

She hailed a cab.


	12. Interference

**Bit of a delay, sorry. I just couldn't get this one out, and I don't know why. It's a bit short as a result, but Big Brother has some air time, so yay! Okay, honestly, everyone got the hedgehog reference in the last chapter, right? RIGHT?**

**Haha well anyway, here it is...**

Serena was walking up to her apartment when her phone rang. She flipped it open.

"Hello?"

"Ms. Gambles, there is a car for you. Please get inside."

Serena looked around to see that there was indeed, a black car idling at the curb.

"Who are you? How did you get my number?"

"Because I know you are distrusting and have a basic knowledge of self-defense, I will simply tell you this. I am an interested party in Sherlock Holmes, and I require your assistance. No harm will come to you."

"Who are you?"

"Get in the car and find out."

Serena looked at the car, and the door opened. Her survival instincts were pretty good most of the time, and they weren't kicking in now. She may not be in danger. Serena sighed and got inside.

The car drove to the outskirts of London, into an abandoned factory. The driver said nothing the entire trip. Serena felt a ball in her stomach. Maybe she miscalculated.

She stepped out of the car and faced the man standing in front of her. He held an umbrella in his hand nonchalantly.

"Hello, Ms. Gambles." He was the one who had spoken to her on the phone.

"Um, hello." Serena's voice sounded strange even to her.

"Would you like to take a seat?" The man gestured to the folding chair.

"No thank you."

"Afraid I'll try to attack you?"

"I prefer to be in control."

The man smiled. It was a perfectly pleasant smile, she supposed. But it had an undercurrent of mystery she didn't like.

"So, what do you want? Because if you're another admirer, you could have just given me chocolate."

The man chuckled. "I am an admirer, of sorts. I've been watching you."

Serena felt her blood turn to ice. "Oh?"

"Serena Gambles, psychologist specializing in treating phobias. Has cleithrophobia. Changed identity upon arriving in London to Amanda Gambles. Not a huge change. You left your last name the same. According to most records, Serena Gambles no longer exists. But here she is."

"And you managed to find her. How?"

"I have a small position in the British government. I have access to information like this."

"And you admire me, why?"

"You approach Sherlock Holmes with a case he can't solve, a mystery killer, and he likes you."

"He can't figure me out. That's the only reason." Serena protested.

The man shook his head. "I'm not so sure. That's why I am here."

Serena looked closer. The man seemed oddly familiar, but she couldn't place his face. "Who are you?"

"I'm surprised he hasn't mentioned me. My name is Mycroft. I am the brother of Sherlock Holmes."

Serena could see the family resemblance in the way Mycroft talked. "So you stalk your brother?"

"I keep tabs on him. We don't get along."

"You would think sibling rivalry would be above two geniuses."

"Never mind that. What is the nature of your relationship with Sherlock Holmes?"

"What relationship?"

"Don't play dumb, Ms. Gambles. You pop into their flat at random hours. He's been to your flat. He even apologized to you. _What is the nature of your relationship?_"

Serena sighed exasperatedly. "I don't know, friends?"

"Nothing…more?"

Serena laughed out loud. It wasn't forced at all; it exploded from her lips like a bomb. "You think we're romantic? Sherlock and me. Has he ever even had a girlfriend?"

"Not that I know of. But one doesn't just toy with Sherlock Holmes. Someone did once, and well, let's just say it wasn't pretty."

"What happened?"

"Classified. I'll tell you this though. It almost ended in Britain being brought to its knees by one woman."

"So what makes you think I'm his girlfriend?"

Mycroft walked toward her slowly, swinging the umbrella slowly. "My brother knows that love is a disadvantage. He still chooses to have friends, that idiot detective Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, John…chosen over the space of years. What makes you so special that he has chosen you within two days?"

"I don't know. But I seriously doubt that Sherlock truly cares about me as more than a friend considering we have a row every other day and he never stops pestering me about my past."

"Oh, yes, that unfortunate business."

Serena paled.

"I know who you are, Ms. Gambles. That nasty period, the falling-out with your parents, how you ran to the one place you knew you could find help. Lestrade was the one who wiped your identity, wasn't he? He must know the basics, but does he know everything?"

"I may have…" Serena cleared her throat. "I may have glossed over some of the more vivid details."

"Do you intend to tell my brother?"

"That is behind me. What's the point of dredging it up now?"

"It's only been a month. The wounds are still fresh."

Serena barked out a laugh. "Some of those wounds are never going to heal, Mr. Mycroft! If you truly know everything, you would realize that."

She turned and walked back to the waiting car.

"I do." Mycroft murmured so she could just hear him. "I can understand that."

"Then you know why I can't tell Sherlock."

"I suppose. But you do realize that you'll have to tell him eventually."

"No."

"You can't keep hiding forever. Sooner or later, you're going to want to stop hiding. It seems like you want to stop now. Did Sherlock do that to you?"

"The moment I stop hiding is the moment it happens again!" Serena yelled.

The air was quiet for a few long seconds.

"My brother is many things, Ms. Gambles." Mycroft said. "He is brilliant, cunning, somewhat caring at times, but there is one thing I know he isn't, and you know he isn't. It will not happen again."

Serena got into the car silently, and it took off, leaving the man behind.

She could not believe a word he said. She just couldn't.


	13. Contact

**Every cliche romance needs one of these scenes...any guesses yet? Haha, I had so much fun writing this episode. **

**Also, I use lyrics from two songs in this one: ****_Can't Stop_**** by OneRepublic and ****_Syndicate_**** by The Fray. I know that ****_Can't Stop_**** came out after the episode. They are both two of my favorite songs.**

**Anyway, enjoy!**

(Sherlock's POV)

The next six days passed without contact from Serena. John and Sherlock worked around the clock trying to find some clue to the murderer. But with little evidence, no new information, and the serial killer lying dormant, even the brilliant Sherlock was stumped.

Sherlock found himself looking around corners, expecting her to pop up like she always seemed to. Whenever his thoughts drifted to her, which they did quite often, he felt something odd. An ache in the bottom of his stomach. It was uncomfortable.

He couldn't remember getting dressed once those six days. John began complaining, then stopped shopping for groceries in revenge, then disappeared for hours on end. He came back smelling of perfume.

Sherlock wasn't bored, that wasn't it. The case was engaging, the first to stump him since the dead man in the trunk of the car incident. But that wasn't his fault. This couldn't be either.

He couldn't shake the feeling that Serena was connected, no matter how hard she denied it. But how? It wasn't anyone at her office. She had wiped her identity, and though there were ways of tracking people down, he had no doubt Serena had covered her tracks well.

He needed to talk to her and Lestrade. Now, who to see first?

Lestrade was an obvious choice. He began to stride out of the apartment.

"Where the hell are you going?" John sounded sour.

"Lestrade's. Serena's."

"Dressed like that?"

"What's wrong with how I'm dressed?"

"You aren't wearing anything, Sherlock!"

"So?"

John sighed. "You're going over to Serena's. Don't you want to…look nice?"

"Why would Serena care?"

John's eyes widened and he inhaled sharply. "She wouldn't, would she?" He asked like he was just realizing something deadly important.

"No, she wouldn't." Sherlock's voice was questioning.

John shook his head. "Why did I even bother flirting with her?" He asked the ceiling.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh nothing. But you are getting dressed if you're going to Scotland Yard."

Sherlock groaned. "If I must."

John nodded and Sherlock stalked to his bedroom.

"I need to see Lestrade." Sherlock said to the officer at the door.

"He's busy."

"We both know he isn't."

The officer craned his neck dismissively to the office where Lestrade sat, eating a donut.

Sherlock stalked past the officer and walked in.

"Lestrade."

"Well if it isn't the consulting detective himself." Lestrade swallowed.

"I need all information on Serena Gambles."

Lestrade's face paled. "Serena? Why?"

"You wiped her identity. You must know something about her past."

"Nope."

"LESTRADE!"

"NO Sherlock! She asked me as a friend to keep it between us."

"But I need it." Sherlock whined.

"Look," Lestrade stared Sherlock in the eye, "Serena is a good friend of mine. I've known her for years. Our families were good friends before they disowned her four years ago. I lost all touch with her about three years ago. I tried to get ahold of her, to see if I could help her. Then, out of the blue, she appeared at my flat. Said she had tracked me down and needed my help for old times sake. She told me the whole story about where she had been for the past three years. I knew she was holding back a few details, but I didn't want to know them."

"What story?"

Lestrade shook his head. "Sherlock, don't pry! She finally got away from all that a month ago. She's still hurting. Please, promise me, you won't ask anymore questions of her."

"Fine."

"No. Promise me!"

Sherlock sighed. "Fine. I promise."

Lestrade nodded. "Good. Now, I'm just telling you this, as a friendly warning. I used to have quite the crush on Serena, when we were younger. Not that she ever returned it. She has a very specific type, and it's not me."

"Oh god, Lestrade. Shut up."

"No, listen! I'm not her type, but you know who is?" Sherlock stared off into space, his eyes glazing over.

"You."

Sherlock's head snapped to attention. "Me?"

"That's why I'm telling you, right now, that if you hurt her, emotionally, physically, mentally, anything, I will personally throw you in prison. Some people will probably thank me." Lestrade's threat was weighed down by seriousness.

Sherlock shrugged. "I'm not planning on hurting her, so…"

"Just go." Lestrade said.

"Keep an eye on her patients, will you?" Sherlock said as he exited.

"Fine, please, just leave!"

Sherlock approached Serena's flat cautiously. He remembered the last time he was here vividly. Images of the piano flickered in his head, and he realized that he really wanted to hear Serena play again.

He walked up to her door and knocked. No answer. He rapped harder. Still nothing. He heard the sound of running water, and felt around for a lock pick in his pocket.

The door swung open silently. He walked in. The room was empty, but the shower was running. He walked toward the piano, his boots making slight scuffing noises as he sat down.

That's when he heard the singing. High and clear, like a crystalline bell. He could hear every word clearly over the water.

_I don't want to live without you_

_I can live without you half the day, hey hey_

_I don't want to live without you_

_And put life off for another day_

He could just see the barest outline of her skin through the fogged glass of the shower. Her dark hair fell down her back. Her voice was beautiful.

That suggested sentimentality. He was not sentimental. But he didn't look away as the water turned off and Serena stepped out. He just caught the barest flash of pale skin as she grabbed a green towel and wrapped it around her body. His heart began pumping fast as she walked toward him, looking down at the ground, smiling, still singing.

_But I can't stop_

_Thinking about, thinking about us_

_Anymore ooh oh_

_I said I can't stop_

_Thinking about, thinking about us_

_Anymore…_

She glanced up and let out a small shriek of fear. Her hands clutched the towel tighter around her as she jumped back, her hair scattering drops everywhere.

"Sherlock! What the fuck? I had the door locked!"

"I-"

"You scared me!"

"I-I'm sorry. I needed, to, uh…" Sherlock looked at the water dripping from her hair, lining her eyelashes like tears, running in rivulets down her skin. He couldn't meet her eyes.

Serena glanced down and her cheeks went red.

"Um-I, uh, should go, uh, clothes, yes, right." She stuttered, face flaming, and she turned and strode into her bedroom, kicking the door shut forcefully behind her.

Sherlock exhaled for several seconds. His own cheeks felt warm, and his heart still raced. It wasn't as if he hadn't seen a woman naked before. Serena hadn't even been completely naked. But something about her reaction threw him completely off.

She had been so vulnerable, so different that what he was used to from her. She had scurried away as fast as she could.

"So, what do you want?" Serena reemerged, wearing a long-sleeved t-shirt and pajama shorts. Her hair was up in a bun. She skirted around the puddle of water where she had stood.

"I haven't seen you in six days."

"I've been busy." She said curtly, her cheeks still red. "Next time, do you mind, I don't know, waiting another two minutes? Or calling first?"

"I heard you singing." Sherlock didn't think it was possible, but her cheeks got darker.

"Well, you know, it takes my mind off things." Serena marched to her kitchen and whipped a towel off a rack. She knelt down on the floor and began mopping up the water. Every movement was tight, furious.

"I am sorry."

"No, it's fine." She sighed. "You surprised me. I don't like surprises."

"You said singing takes your mind off things. What do you have to take your mind off of?"

Serena threw the soaked towel toward her kitchen. It landed with a plop in the small sink.

"You weren't avoiding us, were you?"

Serena moved to the couch and collapsed onto it. "I wasn't avoiding you. I missed a couple days of work traipsing around with you. I needed to make up time. And for what I have to think about…" She bit her lip, and Sherlock noticed water trailing down the side of her neck.

"You can sit down?" She gestured to the spot on the couch next to her. Sherlock moved hesitantly and sat down gingerly.

"It's not a bomb, it's a sofa." Serena said with a faint smile. Her blush was fading.

"The day that I apologized, after I left,"

"You weren't attacked again?"

"No. I had a visitor though. His name was…Mycroft."

Sherlock sighed dramatically. "He wanted information?"

"Yes. You have a brother?"

"Sadly."

"He seems to genuinely care about you."

Sherlock scoffed.

"But he's your brother? How can you not care?"

"Do you care about your parents at all?" Sherlock said harshly.

Serena went silent, and Sherlock was reminded of his promise to Lestrade. "You don't have to answer."

"I do care about my parents. They don't care about me. That's why it hurt so much." Serena said calmly, no trace of tears in her deep blue eyes.

"Did he offer you money?" Sherlock changed the subject with ease.

"Damn it, no. I could use a bit of extra." Serena said with a joking smile that told Sherlock she would never dream of giving information about him away.

The tension gone, Serena offered Sherlock coffee, which he gladly accepted.

"So, you just wanted to see me, or you have a reason?"

Lestrade had warned him. "Not a particular reason." He lied.

Serena's eyes tightened, but she kept smiling. He knew she knew he was lying.

"Okay, you win. I was going to ask you about your past, but I changed my mind. Or, more correctly, Lestrade changed it for me."

Was she disappointed? Why on earth was she disappointed?

"Greg has always looked out for me, ever since we were teenagers. Our fathers were college drinking buddies. I grew up with Greg. It's nice having someone else protect you."

"He mentioned that you went missing about three years ago."

"I didn't go missing! I was seeing the world. I lost touch with everyone. It was right after my parents…" She broke off and shrugged.

Sherlock frowned. She was still not telling the truth, but he decided not to push it.

"You sing?"

"Not really." Serena ducked her head.

"It was beautiful."

"Getting sentimental, are we?"

"You know me better than that."

Serena laughed. "It's funny. I've known you for only eight days, and yet I know you better than a lot of people. The Brilliant Sherlock Holmes, the world's only consulting detective, never sentimental, doesn't like French but will eat cupcakes, stumped by the painfully ordinary Serena Gambles. Makes for a good headline."

"I won't be stumped forever. And you keep avoiding my questions about singing."

"I only sing in the shower."

"You are the strangest person I have ever met."

"I hope that a compliment."

"Yes."

"I feel honored."

"Will you sing for me?"

"Sing what?"

"Anything."

Serena paused for a second, and her fingers began tapping a beat on her leg. She hummed briefly, and smiled.

_Halfway around the world _

_Lies the one thing that you want _

_Buried in the ground, hundreds of miles down _

_First thing that arises in your mind while you awake _

_Is bending you til you break _

_Let me hold you now _

_Baby close your eyes _

_Don't open til the morning light _

_Baby don't forget _

_You haven't lost it all yet _

_Don't know what you're made of _

_Til the one thing that you want _

_To come in with the dawn and suddenly changes _

_Monday, syndicate meets everyone the same _

_But all we've lost to the flame _

_Listen to me now _

_Baby close your eyes _

_Don't open til the morning light _

_Don't ever forget _

_We haven't lost it all yet _

_All we know for sure _

_Is all that we are fighting for _

_Baby don't forget _

_We haven't lost it all yet _

_Someday when this is over _

_We may still have no answer _

_For now it's when I hold ya _

_We are closer, we are closer _

_We are closer, we are closer _

_Baby close your eyes _

_Don't open til the morning light _

_Don't ever forget _

_We haven't lost it all yet _

_And all we know for sure _

_Is all that we are fighting for _

_Baby don't forget_

_We haven't lost it all yet_

Sherlock couldn't help edging closer as she sang, quietly at first, getting louder with every word. Like a myth, like the Sirens, she just reeled him in closer.

"Sherlock?"

Sherlock jerked out of his stupor, looking straight at her eyes.

"You're staring." She said.

"Sorry." He leaned back and broke the connection. He felt hot, embarrassed.

"It was good to see you. Drop by tomorrow for dinner. John would love to see you." Sherlock stood and moved to the door.

"You don't want to stay longer? You were here for all of ten minutes." Serena asked as he exited.

"I forgot. Shopping. Goodbye." Sherlock hurried down the stairs.

"Um, bye!" Serena's voice was clearly confused. Of course, because he never did the shopping.

Sherlock felt the cool air on his face and took a deep breath. After he exhaled, he took in another.

It was a mistake to come here. Sherlock knew that now. He had thought he had perfect control until he had met her. He had felt the same about The Woman, and he didn't want to care about Serena. He thought he had picked out that side of his heart and flicked it away into a dark corner. He never wanted to feel so small and insignificant as She had made him feel again. And though Serena never had driven him to that point, it was bound to happen eventually.


	14. Drunk

**Hey guys!**

**Fair warning, this chapter is slightly more intense than the others. And if any of you don't want to read the slightly more explicit stuff, skip the part in ***. It's super short. This chapter kind of shows a different side to Serena, how she doesn't deal with problems and how it is painful to others. So...yeah. Sorry if this causes you to have the need to wring Serena's neck. After I wrote this and read through it, ****_I _****wanted to kill her.**

**Please review. I want to know what you think!**

(Serena's POV)

For the rest of the day, Serena flipped through channels on her TV pointlessly, lay on her couch staring up at the ceiling, and began dancing to a commercial, her feet pounding heavily on the floor. She fell asleep sprawled on her couch late that night, head buried in cushy pillow, blanket tangled around legs.

_She was in a bare room, the dark wooden floor smooth beneath her feet . Her bare arms were cold in the faint breeze, and her legs prickled with goose bumps. She shivered and rubbed her hands up and down her arms._

_Two other hands brushed them away easily, large, pale, and strangely gentle. They ran up and down softly, sending warmth through her entire body. Sherlock's hair tickled her ear as his head moved forward over her shoulder and she closed her eyes._

_She leaned against his lean body, letting him support her weight as his hands travelled down to her wrists, fingering her scars tenderly. His hard muscles flexed against her back as his arms wrapped around her stomach slowly, pulling her closer than she could imagine. She felt jolts of electricity running through her body. _

_Serena didn't think she had felt more contented and alive in her entire life. _

_His hands travelled up her arms again, and she pressed against him harder, depending on him completely to keep her standing. Her legs seemed to turn to jelly._

_Something soft brushed against her neck. Suddenly, it tightened. Serena's eyes shot open as her hands clawed at her neck. Her fingertips met a rough strap, a noose slowly squeezing the life from her. She gasped, but her airway was completely closed._

_She shoved herself away from Sherlock, but he had too tight a hold._

_"Please, Sherlock." She rasped, but the leather only cut deeper._

_She rolled her head back and met his eyes. They looked black in the light. His face was hard, emotionless, as he choked the air from her._

_She felt sleepiness closing in on her, darkness swirling through her vision. She closed her eyes, becoming completely limp. _

Serena jerked awake, her eyes meeting tan brown. She tore at her neck, ripping away the stifling blanket twisted around her throat. She rolled from the couch, her elbow breaking her fall, and she winced with the sudden pain. Her world was spinning as she gasped for air, coming to all fours.

Her stomach somersaulted, and she glanced up towards the bathroom. She doubted she could stand, let alone run. She dry-heaved until her entire body trembled, and then her knees buckled. Her cheek pressed against the blessedly cold floor, and she sobbed. Her tears made a puddle by her limp hair, and her hand clutched at thin air.

She could still feel the leather rope at her throat. Her hands shot to it, and every time she blinked, she felt Sherlock's hands on her arms.

Every corner hid something waiting to jump out at her. She spent most of the day hiding in her bed, but she didn't feel safe there.

She felt so exposed, bared clean on a silver platter, and she couldn't decide what was worse, the fact that she was attracted to Sherlock every second she was with him, or that she was terrified of that same thing. She could still feel his hands…stop it!

She was such an idiot. She did this every time. She dropped like a stone into everything she did. And dinner! She had no choice but to go over there and risk revealing everything she felt to Sherlock.

Maybe it was a good thing he couldn't return feelings like most people.

She didn't think of him that way. That was what everyone thought, but she wasn't everyone. And just like that, his eyes flicked across his mind.

She grabbed her head with both hands. "Get out of my head!" She screamed.

Of course it did nothing to help, just made her scalp hurt from where her nails had carved in. She wore a tank top, the one she couldn't wear in public. It signified everything she had abandoned three years ago. She was so different now. She felt herself looking at a reflection of the past. That girl wasn't her, and Serena knew she would reverse the clock and change her decision if she could.

What to do about dinner? She could wear her mask of feeling nothing, but Sherlock knew already she thought of him as a friend. She could focus her attention on John and blow off Sherlock for as long as she could. Or she could screw the whole thing, go out, get drunk, and find some poor bastard to…take her mind off things. That's what kept her from diving headfirst into depression a month ago, distractions.

She knew it fixed nothing. Hell, it probably made everything ten times worse. She never felt better after a hookup. But pretending to be Amanda, who had no traumatizing past, who loved to drink and loved to have fun, was an escape. Her disguise. And who knew? Maybe her lure towards Sherlock would just disappear.

The club was crowded. It was a Friday, and it seemed as though every single woman had come tonight. Serena glanced at the sign by the door and sighed. Singles night. Just her luck.

She headed straight for the bar, her high black heels and plunging, not to mention tight, red dress drawing attention.

"Whiskey." She said.

"Make that two." A man slid into the bar stool next to her. He smiled widely at her, and she looked away. The bartender set down their drinks.

"Her drink is on me." The man said.

"I've got it, thanks." Serena answered with a coy smile.

"You mean, thanks Jason, I'd love if you bought me a drink." The man answered.

"Jason? Manly."

"Can I guess yours?"

"You can try." Serena downed her shot.

Jason did the same without flinching. "So, what brings you here, um?"

"Amanda. Just," Serena traced her finger around the rim of her glass, "Looking for some fun."

"Oh." His look changed instantly. His blond hair seemed to glitter in the flashing lights, and his brown eyes were calm. He couldn't be more different than…no, not thinking of him.

"And why do you want to have fun?" Jason asked.

"Oh, no. You have to answer a question of mine first."

"Okay."

"Why are you here, Jason?"

Jason sighed. "Hoping to meet a beautiful woman and sweep her off her feet." He batted his lashes at her.

"Cute."

"I think you'll find I'm not _too_ cute."

Serena faked a laugh. "You telling me I'm beautiful, Jason."

"Definitely. So, let's skip the pointless banter, and I'll ask you, why are you really here?"

"I want to forget someone."

"I can help you with that."

"You sure?"

"Yes." Jason began to stand, and Serena wagged her finger at him.

"No. I want to get good and drunk first. That's half the fun."

Jason threw his head back with a laugh. "Bartender, another round. Keep them coming."

It wasn't long until Serena felt her inhibitions loosening, Sherlock slipping out of her mind. She laughed at Jason's awful jokes, and felt him slipping too. Finally, she reached over and put a hand on his.

"You wanna get out of here?" She asked, a smirk playing over her lips.

"Thought you'd never ask." Jason stood and stumbled. Serena got up a bit more gracefully and she led him from the club.

The key fumbled in the lock as Serena let Jason in. Her apartment was dark, and she felt a strange rush of relief Sherlock hadn't broken in.

She looked at Jason, and his lips crashed into hers. He pulled her into him, his hands traveling down her back. She gasped as his tongue pressed against hers. Her legs wrapped around his hips, and he easily held her up, walking forwards. One hand unzipped her dress, and she let go of him just long enough to pull her dress over her head. It dropped to the floor.

"Bedroom." Serena gasped, and he changed direction. Her nails dug into his back, and a moan escaped his lips. She smiled against them.

He dropped her on the bed, leaning over her, a smirk playing across his face.

An image of Sherlock popped into her head, him watching her play the piano with wondering eyes.

Her hands pulled his shirt over his head in one swift movement, and he leaned against her. His tongue traced from her mouth down her neck, and she felt his teeth bite her neck, softly at first, then hard. She let out a groan as his hands slid under her back and undid her bra.

Sherlock, eating a cupcake, watching her as she licked her fingers. Serena felt her heart skip a beat.

He tossed it off, and her hands slid underneath the waistband of his pants. Serena smiled as he pressed against her even harder.

(Sherlock's POV)

He waited for her. John sat with him until midnight before going to bed, but Sherlock kept staring at the door. He sent her a text every few minutes before falling into a stupor. He stared at the screen of his phone until he heard chimes in the distance and realized it was four in the morning.

Serena wasn't coming.


	15. Start

**Hello, hello, hello! Hello there. Sorry for the wait, I know you all want to see just how Serena apologizes. For those of you who read it, Torn From yesterday is being updated, I promise. **

**Well, go on. Read.**

(Serena's POV)

Serena blinked sleep out of her eyes. She could vaguely remember Jason getting up that morning, but she had ignored him.

She groaned as she glanced at the alarm clock. It was only eight. Her head seemed to float above her body, trapped in a haze of hung over hell. It pounded as she sat up on her elbows. It was definitely not the worst she'd ever had. She didn't feel the familiar lurching sick feeling in her stomach.

She sat up. Nope, there it was. She would not throw up. She would not throw up. The world twirled for a while before coming to a halt. She pulled a long shirt over her head and stood up.

She walked to her bathroom, fighting bouts of nausea and dizziness. The while pills went down her throat easily, and she forced down a couple gulps of cold water.

Her hung over fix playing on the TV, Serena stretched out on the couch. She checked her phone in case anyone had left a message.

"Shit!" She exclaimed, and gasped as the loud sound echoed in her head.

"Damn, damn, damn, damn." She swore quietly as she checked the nine new text messages she had.

**Sherlock asked me about you. Thought you'd want to know. –GL**

**Sherlock is driving me crazy. Why aren't you here to rescue me? –JW**

**I can't believe you. –JW**

**Are you coming? –SH**

**Ordered take-away and cleared off the table. –SH**

**You bring the cupcakes. –SH**

**It's quite late. What's taking so long? –SH**

**John just went to bed. He seems pretty mad. –SH**

**It's four in the morning. I don't think you're coming.**

Serena felt like crying. The fact that she could hear his voice echoing around in her head, so accusing, hiding the feeling, but it was still there. He didn't sign his name on the last. Oh god, it felt awful, like a lion had taken her chest and torn it open.

She felt the alcohol and guilt making her pay for what she did as she stood up, phone in hand and rushed out of her apartment, locking the door behind her.

She ran down the sidewalk, hair flying in her face. She hardly noticed the vacant taxi. Baker Street was close by, close enough to sprint, close enough to make up for her mistake.

The door loomed like another monster from her nightmares, only this one wouldn't chase her away. She twisted the doorknob, and when it wouldn't open, she kicked at the door in frustration. The wood splintered, but the door stayed firm, and Serena heard footsteps hurrying towards her.

"Dearie, what do you think you're doing?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"You have to let me in." Serena panted.

"Sorry, John told me specifically no visitors."

"No, he didn't. He just told you not to let me in."

Mrs. Hudson blustered with her sweet smile, and Serena broke.

"Please. Please, just let me in. Please."

Mrs. Hudson sighed and produced a key. Serena pushed open the door quickly.

She met a gun pointing straight at her forehead. John's livid face stared her straight between the eyes.

"What the hell, Serena?" He didn't lower the gun, and Serena's hands raised in surrender.

"Why are you pointing a gun at my face?"

"Because you never showed up last night, that's why."

"I need to talk to Sherlock."

"Sherlock's asleep. Come back later."

"You'd rather I never come back at all." Serena said, and John finally brought the gun down from pointing at her face. His face was tired and sad.

"That's not true."

"Yes, it is. I screw up everything I touch." Serena walked down the hall towards Sherlock's bedroom. She peeked through the door. There he was, covered with numerous blankets and sheets, only his head poking out. He looked peaceful, childlike.

"Where were you last night? We waited. He waited."

"I know. I got his texts. I just…"

"Just what, Serena? You hurt him."

"You think I don't know that? I feel so incredibly guilty. I feel heartless."

"Then why didn't you come? Why do you keep playing with him?"

"I was scared! You don't know what it's like, not having people who love you. You have Sherlock, and Mrs. Hudson, and your relatives, and Lestrade and the chance to have a future family. My parents disowned me because I…" Serena choked up.

"Because you what?"

"It's not important."

"If you just told us…"

"No! I won't! I won't bring up that part of my life! It doesn't exist anymore! It's gone!" Serena shouted, her voice vibrating through the walls. Without her realizing, her eyes were filled with tears, and her head pounded.

Sherlock stirred in his bed, and Serena stiffened. She turned towards him, and John grabbed her arm.

"What's that on your neck?" He asked, and Serena's hand shot to the mark Jason must have...

"You were with someone last night?"

"No." She sounded like she was lying even to her ears.

"Please. You think I haven't gotten a hicky before?"

Serena stumbled as she turned away, covering the bruise with her hair.

"Are you hung over?"

"It's how I work out stress."

"By going out, getting hammered, and having a one-night stand. Does it ever work?"

"Never. But I convince myself it does." Serena glanced back at Sherlock.

"Don't you care about him at all? You can't play with Sherlock Holmes."

"You think I don't care? I would never toy with him. It was an awful mistake." Serena blinked rapidly.

"One that could cost you everything."

"I know. That's why I came. I thought it was to apologize, but this'll never work out. I realize that now. I never should've asked to be in on the case. Just tell me when you solve it, okay?" Serena turned towards the door and walked through the arch.

"Serena, you don't have to do that. You can fix it." John said, but Serena didn't turn.

"Make up your mind. We both realize that

"Don't I get a say?" The deep voice made her turn, her heart stop.

"Sherlock." John's voice sounded dismayed.

"For someone who's so independent, you seem determined to take away _my_ choice."

"This isn't about you."

"Isn't everything?"

Serena smiled in spite of herself. "There you go again, almost charming, but not quite." She murmured. "How much did you hear?"

"Not much. Something about caring about me, though. Although I can't imagine why you would." Serena felt something like a splinter of wood drive itself in her chest with those words.

"Is this what you call caring?" Sherlock continued.

"I bailed last night."

"I question you about your past every chance I get."

"I got drunk and slept with someone I didn't know. I didn't care." Serena said. Sherlock paused.

"If we're confessing our sins, I didn't get the milk." John broke the tension, and Serena shot him a grateful glance.

"I don't really care that you slept with someone else. I really don't." Sherlock said, and Serena sighed.

"I talked to Lestrade about you behind your back then broke into your apartment." He said.

Serena's face broke out into a smile. "Yeah, you also walked in on me in the shower and scared me half to death."

"He what?" Serena could've sworn Sherlock was blushing. But Sherlock never would be embarrassed.

"How about this? An apology from everyone." Serena said.

"What do you guys want me to do?" John asked.

Sherlock and Serena exchanged a glance. "Do the shopping." They said in unison.

"My turn."

"Make food. Real food." John said.

"I'm a horrible cook."

"I don't give a damn."

"I'll take a shower." Sherlock said.

"How is that punishment?" Serena asked.

Sherlock shrugged and walked away.

When John returned with the food over an hour later, grumbling about the service, Serena got to work.

Sherlock hadn't lied. He had cleared out the kitchen, which only made her feel guilty again. He still wasn't out of the shower. It had to be freezing by now.

"Does he always take this long?"

"All the time." John said with a sigh. "Need any help?"

Serena waved him aside. "It's my punishment. You can't help." She said jokingly. "What do you want?"

"Anything decent." John collapsed on the couch.

Serena got to work, making basically the only thing she could. She was sure it would be crap.

"Something smells." Sherlock reentered the room.

"Took you long enough."

"Thinking. What did you make?"

Sherlock peered at the still-sizzling pan. "Omelettes?"

Serena scooped them out of the hot pan onto three plates and carried them to the couch. "Yep."

"Crap telly?" John asked.

"Obviously." Serena and Sherlock said at the same time, and Serena laughed as she sat down.

"This is delicious."

"I lived off these in university." Serena said, tucking her feet under her.

"I hated university." Sherlock said.

"Me too. And I had to go to quite a few years to get my psychology degree."

"NO!" Sherlock shouted at the TV.

"What is it?" John asked.

"That isn't the murderer! It's obviously the mailman."

"It can't be the mailman. The mailman isn't a character." Serena protested.

"They have the wrong man!"

Serena just smiled as she ate, feeling herself relax.

"I have a question." John asked.

"Hmm?" Sherlock said.

"Why the hell were you watching Serena in the shower?"

Sherlock sputtered, and Serena laughed again at the expression on his face. She couldn't seem to stop laughing.

"I wasn't watching her." Sherlock protested. "I was just…there."

John exchanged a glance with Serena, and she looked away, blushing.

She felt herself dozing off early, stretching out more and more on the couch until her feet bumped into Sherlock. She flinched away from him, curling into herself.

But even the worry of disturbing him wasn't enough to keep her eyes from closing.

(Sherlock's POV)

"Do you think she's actually asleep?" John asked.

"Yes." Sherlock looked at Serena, still curled into a ball, though he knew she'd straighten in her sleep.

"Good. We need to have a word." John said seriously, and Sherlock looked at him as he turned off the TV.

"Go on."

John had his hands folded together and his legs crossed. Defensive. "Look, I know you pretty well, Sherlock. We both know you like to pretend you don't feel emotion, but we both know you do. The Woman…"

"Don't."

"And it seems as though every other day, you and Serena are arguing. But I'm not blind. You two apologize to each other at every chance you get.

"Your point?"

"Do you like her?"

"Of course I like her."

"No, I mean," John sighed, "do you _like_ her?"

Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows. "I don't…"

John shook his head. "Never mind. I'm going to bed."

Sherlock watched John leave, completely unnerved by his questions. Did he like Serena? Of course! He wouldn't exactly apologize to just anyone, would he? Serena had said herself they were friends.

Why was she stressed though? Why had she felt the need to go out last night and avoid him.

Almost as if she could hear him, Serena flinched away from something. Her face contorted into an expression of terror, an emotion Sherlock never imagined she would wear.

He awkwardly patted her leg as she clenched in on herself, fighting an inward battle.

"It's only a dream." He murmured. He himself never remembered his dreams. Serena's face relaxed slowly, and she straightened her legs so they were just touching Sherlock's.

He may have underestimated just how damaged she was.


	16. List

**Hello everybody! Sorry for the week of no updates but I have been camping! Which means no Internet or cell phone signal, unfortunately. But in that week I did get ahead in Playing the Game. I have now written up to Chapter Nineteen, so expect quite a few frequent updates. **

**Here's Chapter Sixteen. Enjoy!**

(Serena's POV)

Serena blinked awake from a dreamless sleep. Her mouth was dry. What day was it? Sunday? Monday?

"Where am I?" She asked.

"You're awake," John said, and he held out a chipped mug.

"Thanks." Serena sipped the coffee, strong and black, and smiled.

"Good sleep?"

"Surprisingly, yes. Is Sherlock up?"

"He's hunting for something."

Serena listened and heard the noise coming from the other room.

"I found it," Sherlock said, clutching a piece of paper.

"Found what?" Serena noticed that John had stood up.

"How did you find that?"

"With your old photos. Really John, you would think you'd be more creative."

"What is it?"

"What is the point of a bucket list, anyway?"

"Oh, I had to do one of those. For my psychology course in university," Serena said, peering over Sherlock's shoulder. She only caught a glimpse before John yanked the paper away.

"Please, John? I'll show you mine," Serena pleaded.

"You kept it?"

"I was young." Serena crossed her arms and pouted.

John shrugged. "Fine. Don't judge. I had to do it in university as well."

"Oh please. It's us." Serena smirked and grabbed the paper back.

John had a short list. Things were crossed off, but some, the most important, were uncrossed.

_1. Become a doctor._

_2. Help people._

_3. Have a family._

_4. Help Harry with her drinking._

_5. Have a best friend._

_6. Fall in love._

_7. Stay in love._

_8. Experience life as full as possible._

Serena felt her eyes getting full. It hurt her to see this crucial part of John's existence, to see the things he wanted to do and hadn't done. And it hurt to notice the similarities between herself and him.

"Serena?"

Serena realized her cheek was wet, and she wiped at it angrily.

"I'm fine." She handed the list back to John.

"Do you guys want to come to my place for the day? It is Sunday, isn't it?"

"I believe so."

"Well then, come on. I have a flat-screen TV, lots of food, a bigger couch, more space, and no body parts in my fridge."

John and Sherlock exchanged a glance, and John smiled. "Sure."

"Great." Serena brushed another tear from her cheek.

"Why are you crying?" Sherlock asked.

"I'm being silly. Raging hormones and all." Serena laughed.

They drove to her apartment. Serena unlocked the door and glanced around to make sure there was no evidence of her night. Nothing popped out. Sherlock and John walked in behind her.

"You're next." John said to her.

"Alright." Serena walked into her room and took down a box from her closet she hadn't had the heart to throw out.

"Here it is." She produced the lined piece of paper.

She looked it over. She too had updated and kept it and crossed out things. There were faint watermarks she knew were tears.

_1. Help people._

_2. Become a psychologist._

_3. Have a husband._

_4. Have children._

_5. Love somebody._

_6. Lose somebody._

_7. Get over that stupid fear of being trapped._

_8. Be loved._

_9. Reunite with parents._

_10. Reunite with Greg._

_11. Travel the world._

_12. Have adventures._

_13. Forget._

_14. Find a family._

_15. Have someone say I love you and mean it._

Serena knew she was crying again. The last four were recent, added only a month ago. She saw John's look of concern and Sherlock's look of curiosity.

She suddenly felt fire licking its way up her arms and crumpled the paper into a tiny ball. She pitched it at the door.

"This was a stupid idea," she muttered past the tears running into her hair. She stalked to her kitchen, grabbed a pencil with an eraser and walked back to the living room.

John and Sherlock watched silently as she grabbed the list, that damned list, and smoothed it out. She attacked it with the pink, rubbery eraser.

The lines through the numbers 5, 6, and 8 were gone. She stopped crying and dropped the list to the floor.

She saw his hand pick it up and she stiffened.

"Don't," she whispered, and the hand stopped. She hadn't expected that. She didn't expect to hear the paper brush back to the floor.

"So, the case. Any leads?" Serena asked.

"Do you have any cigarettes?" Sherlock asked quietly.

"I don't, no." Serena said, ignoring what had just happened.

"John?"

"Nope."

Sherlock sighed.

"I can't work without nicotine."

"You? No…" Serena said.

"Yes, me. I'm sorry I'm not perfect. Now, I need my patches."

"I burned them."

"God dammit John!"

"You told me to."

"You have a problem with smoking," Serena said, still in disbelief.

"Yes! Now, if you want this case solved, I need them."

"Sorry, I'm not feeding your addiction. I do have quite a lot of whiskey."

Sherlock shook his head. "Not enough."

"Is there anything?"

Sherlock straightened. "The victims' flats. Can we go there?"

"Maybe. I can talk to Lestrade." Serena offered.

"Brilliant." Sherlock exclaimed.

"There goes my quiet day," John muttered, following Sherlock out of the flat. Serena smiled.

The list was forgotten behind them.

"You three again?" Greg asked the moment they walked in.

"I need to get into the victims' flats. Today." Sherlock said.

"No can do. Anyway, we've combed the places over twice already. Do you have a lead?" Greg asked.

"No! And that's exactly why I need to go to those flats."

Serena saw Greg's face stiffen and stepped forward. "Can I talk to you? Alone?"

Greg instantly looked wary, but he nodded.

Serena followed him to his office.

"If this is about me talking to Sherlock about you," Greg began.

"No, of course not. I don't care as long as you didn't tell him anything." Serena shrugged.

"Oh." Greg's shoulders relaxed as he sat down.

"But I do need those flat keys."

"I can't."

"Why?"

"Because that case is going nowhere. I have more pressing things. There was a burglary."

Serena grabbed the folder from his desk. "It was the grocer."

"What?"

"I've been picking up things being with Sherlock. It was the grocer. Now, can I have those keys?"

Greg looked wary.

"It's still me, Greg. Under everything you don't recognize, it's still me. Your friend, Serena. Someone is murdering my friends and I need to know who and why. Please. For old times sake." Serena begged, and Greg's hard eyes softened slightly.

"You always had me wrapped around your finger." He sighed. "Don't make me regret this."

"When this bastard is behind bars, you won't." Serena smiled as he pressed the three keys into her outstretched palm.

"Got them. Let's go." Serena said to Sherlock, who didn't look surprised.

They reached the first apartment in less than half-an-hour. Serena entered cautiously, knocking first to make sure no relatives were in. But that was silly. Mark had no relatives, no friends outside of the psychology office. It was rather sad, actually.

Sherlock scanned the area carefully. Nothing seemed out of place to Serena, but she knew his mind made unrelated things connected in seconds.

"Hmm." Sherlock hummed. It seemed like he was speaking to himself. He walked over to the pictures on the table, arranged just so.

"How precise." Sherlock said.

"Mark always was a slight bit OCD." Serena remarked.

"You are in one of these."

"Mark didn't have many friends. Just the people from the office." Serena fingered the photograph of her. Mark, Cassidy, Sandy, Kayla, Andrew, herself, all in a line, smiling. She actually looked happy. Three of her five patients gone. She was such a failure.

"Were you their only therapist?"

"Most of the time." Serena said, still looking at the photo.

"Alright." Sherlock turned his head to look around once more, then nodded. "We may move on."

"Already?" John asked.

"There is not much here of consequence." Sherlock said dismissively.

They went to Cassidy's apartment next. Again, Sherlock found nothing. Andrew's apartment was much the same, nothing.

"Well, this was completely useless." Serena said, and Sherlock smiled giddily.

"Yes, but that is what makes it so very exciting!" He exclaimed.

Serena shook her head wryly.

"I will get him. I always do."

"I just hope no one else gets hurt." Serena said, and she glanced at her watch.

"Damn it! Sorry, I've got to run. I forgot, appointment, office, sorry, bye. Call if you find anything!" She said loudly as she hurried out the door. Her feet slapped against the pavement as she hailed a taxi.

"Amanda, you're late," the woman said sternly.

"I know, I know, Mary. I was at Scotland Yard."

"Oh." Mary's expression relaxed. "Sandy's with Kayla in Room 1."

"Got it." Serena took a step away, and then turned back to her boss. "Thanks, Mary. I appreciate it."

"We're all still in shock. Take the time you need."

"Daniel's not in shock." Serena scowled.

"Daniel's an arse." Mary said with a smile.

Serena hurried to Room 1. There she found Kayla and Sandy waiting. Kayla perked up at the sight of Serena.

"Amanda!" She exclaimed, wrapping her arms around Serena's legs. As Serena hugged the little girl close, she wished she could tell her real name to everyone in the world. Amanda was a fake, a phony identity.

"Hey there. I missed you." Serena cooed gently. "Hey, Sandy."

"Haven't seen you in awhile. Everything alright?" Sandy asked kindly.

"Oh yeah, just been busy. You know, the police keep hauling me in."

"Right." Sandy looked doubtful. "When you're done, can I talk to you?"

"Of course." Serena looked puzzled for a moment, but her features smoothed quickly.

She turned to Kayla, and proceeded with her appointment.

She found Sandy an hour later relaxing on a couch, apparently waiting for her.

"So, what's up?" She asked.

Sandy looked straight at her, and she was reminded of why she liked him so much. He was so kind, so gently, and yet when he looked at her, she got the sense of steel pounded into him.

"My sister is coming to visit." He sighed deeply.

"That's great!"

Sandy's sister had been in rehab for the past six months. He hadn't seen her since she went in.

Sandy shrugged.

"Hey, it'll be fine. Really. I'm sure she'll love to see you, and your progress. Family sticks together."

Sandy smiled. "And you've gotten in touch with your parents, have you?"

Serena made a face. "Let me rephrase that. Family _should_ stick together."

"Do you want to talk to them?"

"Not really."

Sandy smiled. "Family should…"

"Oh, shut it." Serena said with a smile to let him know she was joking.

"I'm going to miss you when I leave." Sandy said seriously.

"I will to." Serena's smile faded to sad. "But that's a ways off."

"Certainly. And I will enjoy every second."

"The thing I like about you is you seem genuinely happy to be here, healing yourself. Some of the other patients aren't like that."

Sandy went quiet.

"How are you holding up with the others…gone?" Serena asked.

"It's hard, not having them here. We had quite the little crew here, a small, separate family. It's hard to believe that they're never coming back."

"I know."

"But I still have my sister, and you, and Kayla. You don't need a lot to get you through."

Serena smiled widely. "You're such an optimist. I wish I was like that."

"Hang with me a bit more, and you'll become one."


	17. Weakness

**Hello again. I promised frequent updates AND I just watched the preview for Sherlock Season 3.(fyi swearing is coming) AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH FUCK MY LIFE. As I watched, I thought how the fuck will Serena react? Think about it. Just think about it.**

**FUCK!**

**Anyway, so here is Chapter Seventeen. In (I think) a couple chapters, the first romantic thing will happen and all I will be thinking is oh god Serena has to see Sherlock jump and then see him come back and it's going to hurt. **

**REICHENBACH FEELS!**

**Anyway, come on. Have any serious feels? Review! Really don't give a shit? Review! Enjoy? Review like always!**

**Here you go.**

(Sherlock's POV)

Sherlock was being driven up the wall.

He needed smoke. He craved the sweet release it would bring. He needed the more lasting relief that of solving this stupid damned case. And if he unlocked that puzzle, Serena and her damned confusing personality, and her damned hidden past, would disappear.

The two problems were not separate. This wasn't as black and white as one would think. He had always thought Serena was the key to everything he needed to decipher the serial murders. If only she wasn't the lock as well.

"John, are you here? John!" He shouted, but no answer came.

He knew Serena would likely forego their "friendship" the moment he solved the case. That was how it worked. You pretended to care until you had what you wanted.

She was a good actress, to fool John. She had even almost fooled him. He wouldn't be tricked like that again. But…

But if she had any feelings of friendship, she may tell him. If he asked as a friend. If he pretended to like her.

Oh, but was he pretending?

Yes.

Maybe.

He wasn't sure anymore.

He hated when his thoughts spun in circles. It seemed impossible to make sense of the whirlpool, the downward spiral. There was too much information to sort through, too many variables to factor in. And he didn't have the time to organize it all.

He would ask her. Good plan. It had to work. It _would_ work.

Then again, nothing having to do with Serena ever went according to plan.

He groaned, pressing his hands to his temples with more force than was necessary.

(Serena's POV)

**_Come at once. New development. –SH_**

She really didn't need him to sign his name anymore. She had put his number in a long time ago.

**_Coming. –SG_**

She was already walking down the street. She hailed a taxi and hopped in.

"221 Baker Street, please." She told the cabbie, who smiled and nodded.

She headed up the stairs excitedly. Knowing Sherlock, he had probably solved the case.

"I'm here. What's the development?" She asked Sherlock, who was lying down on the couch.

"There isn't one." He said calmly.

Serena's heart plummeted. "You lied? Why?"

"I needed to get you here. And it worked, didn't it?"

Serena glanced at the door, the way she always did when she got nervous. "What is it?"

"I need to ask you something."

Serena didn't sit down. "Yes?"

Sherlock sat up and stared her straight in the eye. She hated it when he did that. "What happened in your past that made you so afraid?"

Serena shrunk back instantly. She should've expected this. She should have been prepared. "I can't."

"Yes, you can. And you have to. This killer is going to strike again, and again, and again until we catch him. And I know the only way is your past."

"You don't know that." Serena's mind was racing. He couldn't be…no. She had hidden herself. She had done it. There was no feasible way.

"You are just too scared to face the reality of what I'm saying."

Serena stiffened. "I'm not scared."

"Yes, you are."

"What about you?" Serena said back angrily, turning the tables like she always tried to do.

"Me?" Sherlock looked surprised.

"Yes, you. You are so terrified of getting close to me that you won't trust me."

"The same could be said for you. And don't think that I didn't notice you changing the subject." Sherlock retorted.

Serena suddenly felt drained of all her energy. "I'm just so tired of running." She said softly. "It's all I know, but I'm so tired."

"Then stop running and tell me!" Sherlock said, a hint of desperation in his voice.

Serena shook her head. "I can't stop running yet, Sherlock. I can't."

She turned on her heel and walked through the door.

"You wouldn't tell me even to save your friends." Sherlock said bitterly. "I thought that if I appealed to your better nature, asked you as a friend, you would-"

"As a friend!" Serena exclaimed.

"Yes, as a friend. Because, according to some definitions, that is what we are."

Serena looked at him. He was standing now. And he looked convincing enough. His voice sounded sincere. She wanted to tell him, to trust him. But the fear that had trapped her for the better part of three years still held her in its cage.

"If you knew, you wouldn't be my friend. You wouldn't even be able to stand looking at me." She told him.

"How do you know that?"

"Because you think love is weakness, and that those that believe in it are weak. But I used to, Sherlock. I used to be such a fool."

"You don't seem weak."

Serena knew he was wrong. If she wasn't weak, why was she crumbling from the inside?

"I have to go. I have to think." Serena backed out the door. Sherlock watched her go, his face set. Serena thought she saw confusion in his eyes.

She passed John on her way down.

"Serena?" He asked, but she brushed past him.

"Serena!" He shouted after her, but she had already swept through the door.

Her heart was pounding. The fear that infected her made her hands quiver slightly. She was scared of so many things; her past, the serial killer, being trapped. But what scared her the most, what made her fingers shake like they were now was how much she needed Sherlock. She wanted to tell him so much it hurt. That terrified her beyond belief.

(Sherlock's POV)

"Serena?" Sherlock heard John shout down the hall before the door shut.

"What was that about? Were you two fighting again?" He asked Sherlock as he collapsed back onto the couch.

"It is not important." Sherlock answered. His mind was tearing apart the remnants of their conversation.

He was surprised to find he hadn't been lying. As the words had slipped from his lips, he hadn't been lying. He truly thought of Serena as a friend, the same way he thought of John.

And she obviously cared to. She hadn't wanted to feel ashamed. She didn't want him to think little of her. Sherlock could understand that. But whatever was so horrible that she thought he would hate her for it, he couldn't imagine.

He honestly didn't think he could hate her, even if he wanted to.

That was a frustrating thought. It meant that he was getting soft.

"Sherlock, answer me!" John demanded.

"Hmm?"

"Honestly. I asked, what are you thinking about?"

Sherlock sighed. "Her. She isn't making sense."

"Her? Serena? How is she not making sense?"

"She won't tell me."

"Oh, not that again."

"Whoever is committing these murders is connected to her."

"Why not ask Mycroft? I bet he has all sorts of intelligence on her."

Sherlock shook his head vigorously. "I am _not_ asking Mycroft for favors."

John shrugged. "Then wait."

"Wait?"

"I have a feeling Serena will tell you. Just give her time."

Sherlock crossed his arms and laid back on the couch, staring at the ceiling and pondering what John had said.


	18. Hunt

**Do I have any Whovians out there? Just curious, because I just finished watching the last episode of Season 2 for the first time, then sobbed, then poured all my emotions into writing chapter nineteen of this story. **

**Please review and enjoy reading this one.**

(Serena's POV)

Serena stayed up late that night, thinking about Sherlock. Thinking about how he would treat her if he knew what had happened to her. She was so scared he would reject her, leave her friendless like she used to be.

She didn't want to be friendless anymore. She hadn't even realized how awful it felt until the hole had been filled. She hadn't realized how achingly lonely she'd been until Sandy and Kayla and Greg and John and Sherlock had entered her life.

She didn't want to lose that.

But she also didn't want to admit that maybe all this was connected to her. It had been too good to be true the past few weeks. She had finally got away, and even now she wasn't safe.

When she finally fell asleep, faceless figures and shouts filled her head. She was tangled in vines, but, no, those were her blankets. She was awake and asleep and she couldn't tell which one it was most of the time.

The sun finally shone through her window, and she dragged herself out of sleep. Her sheets were wrapped around her legs, and she pushed them aside. Her feet seemed to wobble underneath her as she stood up.

Coffee. Coffee cured everything. The caffeine woke up her tired brain and made it possible for her to keep her eyes open. She drank three cups before realizing she had to go into work.

It took her over an hour to get there. Traffic was worse than usual, and she really didn't feel like walking.

As she walked up the stairs to the office, she imagined all the different ways she could hurt Daniel if he tried to make a move. Not that she ever would.

She opened the door and entered the room. Immediately, she saw a head of bobbing blond hair run toward her.

"Amanda!" Kayla shouted.

"Hey, sweetie." Serena smiled.

"Where'd you go?" Kayla asked as Serena scooped her up in her arms.

"I was here. I probably just missed you, that's all." Serena answered as she made her way to her office.

"Will you play with me? I was looking for Sandy, but he isn't here yet."

Serena looked at the girl. "Sandy isn't here yet?"

"Yeah."

Serena smiled again. "Sure, I'll play with you, but first I have to check something."

She walked toward Mary's office, still carrying Kayla, and passed through the open doorway.

"Amanda, hey. Just finishing up some paperwork. Hey, Kayla."

"Hi, Mary."

Serena shifted her weight. "Hey. Didn't Sandy have an appointment today?"

Mary looked at a clipboard. "He was supposed to be with Carson today at 8:30, but he never showed up. I'm not surprised. Traffic is pretty bad."

Serena shrugged. She was beginning to feel the onset of uneasiness. "I suppose."

She walked out of Mary's office and back into the main entryway.

"Amanda, what's wrong?" Kayla asked.

"Oh, nothing, sweetie. Why don't you go to one of the rooms? I'll meet you there in a little bit." Serena set down Kayla and watched as she skipped to another door.

She took out her phone. She had Sandy's mobile number in here, just like she had all her patients. She dialed and pressed the phone to her ear.

It rang three times.

"Hey." Sandy's voice said.

"Sandy, thank god." Serena said quickly.

"Sandy's not here right now, but feel free to leave a message. See you later."

The beep tone sounded, and Serena hung up.

The onset of a panic attack was setting in. Without registering the movement, she dialed another number.

"Why didn't you text?" Sherlock sounded so calm.

"Sherlock, it's Sandy." Serena was surprised to find her voice shaking. "He-he didn't show up for his appointment and he won't answer his phone-"

"Where are you?" His voice was soothing.

"The office. Please hurry." Serena said.

"I'm coming."

"Sherlock, I-I-" Serena pressed her hand to her forehead.

"I'm coming. Did you call Lestrade? Did you check his apartment?"

"No, not yet."

"Just stay there."

"Please, Sherlock, I need you. I need you here."

There was a long pause as Serena struggled to catch her breath.

"I'm coming." Sherlock said, and the call ended.

"Serena? What was all that about?" Mary asked, poking her head out of her office. "Are you alright?"

Serena caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror. Her face was drained of color, and her eyes were wide.

"Sandy's missing. Call Scotland Yard." She said, her voice steadying.

(Sherlock's POV)

Sherlock was in a cab. John sat beside him, peppering him with questions, ones he didn't have the answer to. He could hear Serena's voice in his head.

_I need you. I need you here._

He was the first person she'd called. If she hadn't cared about him, she would've called Lestrade, or John. But she had called him.

"John, I need you to not make fun of me."

"Um…"

"Serena does not care about me, does she?"

"Sherlock, this isn't the time."

"Just answer me."

John rolled his eyes. "Of course she does! How long is it going to take you to realize that?"

"Hmm."

"Are you saying you have feelings for her too?"

"Of course not."

John laughed. "Sherlock, open your eyes."

"To what?" Sherlock said sharply. He felt like he was walking around blind with only John's words guiding him, and those words weren't exactly reliable.

"Look, can we discuss your love life later?" John said as they pulled up in front of the building. Four cars with red and blue police lights flashing were parked haphazardly in front.

"What love life?" Sherlock asked as John got out of the car.

They climbed the stairs rather than take the elevator. Sherlock reached the top landing before John. He immediately cast his glance around for Serena.

There she was, talking to Lestrade, her hand running through her hair, the other tapping her leg. Her face was snow-white.

"I'm here." Sherlock said so that she could hear, and she turned.

She just nodded, her mouth set in a straight line.

"Anderson is over at Sandy's flat." She said quietly. "He isn't there. I knew he wouldn't be."

"We don't know for sure that Sandy has been taken. He could be stuck in traffic." Lestrade reassured her, but when she looked at Sherlock, he knew it didn't help.

"I want to see the flat." He said, and Lestrade nodded.

"It's close by." He said, glancing at Serena. "Maybe you should stay-"

"No." Serena said, her voice hardening. "I have to go."

"Serena, are you sure?" Lestrade asked, but another look from Serena made him shrug.

"Are you alright?" John asked Serena, who seemed to draw in on herself. She pasted a faint smile on her lips.

"I will be."

"Come on." Sherlock said hurriedly, and he followed Lestrade to the elevator. Serena and John walked behind them.

The flat door was open, but the opening was blocked with bright yellow crime tape. Sherlock was about to duck under it when a nasally voice stopped him.

"No! Absolutely not." Anderson said.

"Anderson, they're with me." Lestrade said.

"I don't want him here." Anderson protested.

"Oh, Anderson, go suck on your pacifier someplace else." Sherlock said as Serena bent over to go under the tape. Anderson opened his mouth to protest, and Lestrade followed Serena.

"Anderson, it won't hurt to have him take a look."

Anderson's face contorted into a look of utter dislike before he inclined his head.

Sherlock stepped over the tape and glanced around the apartment. It was swarming with forensics.

"Everybody out now!" Sherlock said loudly, and all heads turned towards him.

"You heard him. Everyone out." Lestrade ordered, and everyone filed past them.

"Not you. Stay here." Serena froze in her tracks, and John shot Sherlock a look of amusement.

"Sherlock, I don't think-"

"Be quiet." Sherlock ordered Serena, who pressed her lips together.

"What is it? Why is the killer targeting your patients? How are you connected?" Sherlock asked her. He didn't expect her to answer and she didn't.

"How does the killer get his victims? No one has been here since yesterday morning."

"So Sandy was taken before he got home."

"Yes, but how to make it not noticeable."

"The victims come willingly."

"Yes, yes! That's it. He threatens their families, their friends, anyone he could easily get to if they said no."

"Sandy has a sister."

"Threaten to kill the sister and he came willingly."

"But where did he take him?"

Sherlock stared Serena straight in the face. "The killer doesn't want to be found by the police. But he wants you to know what he's doing. He wants you to figure out the pattern and find him. You hold the key to this whole case. Now you need to unlock it."

Serena shook her head. "You think I can do it. I can't."

"Yes you can. It's time to stop running."

Serena sucked in a breath and the silence stretched out for seconds. Finally, she nodded. "I'll try."

"If the victim had been in captivity for sixteen hours, how long do we have?"

Serena blanched. "Two, maybe three. Not long."

"Then we'll hurry." Sherlock grabbed Serena's arm and steered her toward the door. She willingly let him pull her down the stairs, and they passed John and Lestrade talking quietly.

"Sherlock, what's going on?"

"Come, John. We're going to Baker Street. Serena's going to catch the killer. Keep an eye on the phone, Lestrade. We don't have much time."


	19. Found

**Since so many of you were begging for the next chapter, here it is a bit earlier than planned. Please share your opinions and review. I'd love to hear what you think.**

**Enjoy!**

(Serena's POV)

Serena let Sherlock lead her up the stairs to 221B. She was cursing herself for agreeing. She never should have done that.

Sherlock sat her down on a chair in front of a little table and grabbed a map. There was an X on each murder site.

He left Serena staring at it blindly. She didn't know what the pattern was. The three sites were scattered over London. The time restraint didn't help her nerves.

Minutes passed quickly, too quickly. She couldn't stand the ticking clock inside her head.

"Any progress?" John asked her, and she snapped.

"No, I haven't made any progress! Sandy is going to die, and it's all my fault!" She let her head fall into her hands.

"He isn't going to die." John set down a cup near Serena's elbow.

"How much time do we have?" Serena asked Sherlock, who sat with his hands pressed to his forehead.

"It's been an hour." Sherlock said, and Serena sighed.

"There isn't a pattern."

"There has to be. This killer is clever. He would have implanted a pattern, one that only you can figure out." Sherlock said.

Serena stretched her arm out and her hand hit the mug. It fell to the floor with a crash, and tea spilled out.

"Oh, I'm so sorry." She said quickly as John turned. He smiled.

"It's fine, it's fine. I always hated that cup. So cheesy. To see the ocean once is to learn how to miss it." John reads from the side of the cup. Serena's ears pricked up.

"What did you say?"

"That I hated this cup."

"No, no, after that."

John paused. "To see the ocean once is to learn how to miss it."

Serena looked back at the map. Ocean Street. Another word for ocean was sea and…

She picked up a pencil and a scrap of paper. Thee Road, Heaven Tree Close, and Ocean Street. Ocean was another word for sea, and a homonym for sea was see.

"Oh no, no, no." She grabbed her hair, nearly ripping it out.

"What?" Sherlock shot up faster than she would think possible.

_See you in heaven, my angel._

Serena scribbled on the piece of paper. She wrote the six words out. Heaven Tree Close was pretty obvious. Ocean Street went to the word see. And Thee Road matched the word you. That left in, my, and angel.

"You did it." Sherlock said, and Serena collapsed back into the chair.

"Serena?" John asked her, but her insides were trembling, and she couldn't bring herself to move.

"Serena, look at me." John said.

"No, no, no." She moaned, her eyes shut tightly. But a face appeared in her head, and she wanted to scream.

"Serena, what is it?" John asked.

"He found me, he found me. I thought I ran far enough, but he found me." Serena gasped through her suddenly thick throat.

"Serena, remember. Sandy. He's in danger. We have to save him." John said, and Serena met his eyes through her fingertips.

"I'll text Lestrade." Sherlock said.

"Now, where do we need to look?" John asked Serena, who picked up the piece of paper. Out of the three words left, angel seemed the least likely. She was the angel. He would save that for her.

In. It would be in, she was sure. "In." She murmured. "Check for streets with in."

John took out his computer and his fingers flew over the keyboard.

"Lestrade is on his way." Sherlock said, staring at the map.

"You did it." He said. Serena half-expected to hear jealousy in his voice, but she didn't.

"I hope I didn't take too long." She said.

"Nothing. No results." John said.

"Try inn. I-n-n." Sherlock said. "Not just any hotel. Specifically an inn."

John typed, and Serena and Sherlock watched.

"Over 100 results. What now?"

"Narrow it down. Cheap, secluded, place where questions aren't asked." Sherlock had his eyes closed, and his hands were moving through the air as if sorting something.

"That narrows it down to eleven." He said, his eyes flickering open.

"You've memorized London." Serena said faintly.

"Yes. Let's go." Sherlock said, charging toward the door. Serena and John sprung up.

Serena still felt as though someone had taken a high-heel and speared it through her heart.

Lestrade was outside, waiting. "I came as soon as I heard." He said, and Serena grabbed his arm. She gripped it hard.

"Serena, what is it?" He asked.

"I know who the killer is." She said quietly, and Lestrade's face got deadly still.

"He's here?" He asked, and Serena nodded.

"We'll protect you. We'll keep you safe." He said.

"It's not me who's in danger." Serena said, though she knew it was, "It's my patients. Kayla. Keep Kayla safe."

"Where is Sandy? Sherlock said you cracked the pattern."

"One of eleven inns. I don't know which." Serena said. "Sherlock will tell you the addresses."

Lestrade nodded, and Serena saw his hand beckon someone over. John reappeared at her side.

"Watch her." Lestrade ordered.

John stood next to Serena, who stared as Lestrade approached Sherlock.

"It'll be alright." John said soothingly.

Serena was about to answer when Sherlock beckoned her over.

"We're splitting up. What is his fear?"

Serena shook her head to shake herself out of the fog. "Um, pyrophobia. He is afraid of fire."

"But you can't just set an inn room on fire, someone will notice." Sherlock murmured.

"Sandy would get scared of a candle's flame."

Sherlock nodded, casting his gaze out. "Come on. Lestrade is giving us a ride to the first inn."

Serena followed his back to the car and got in. She didn't care that she was squished uncomfortably between John and Sherlock, or that the siren was loud. All she could see and hear were those six words.

_See you in heaven, my angel._

"Serena." John said softly.

"Hmm." She answered, staring at her legs, gripping her knees with both hands.

"We're here." He said, climbing out.

Serena followed, using her hands to find her way out. She saw the building, and men with guns standing ready, and Lestrade giving orders, and Sherlock storming off to the front desk.

"Time!" He shouted into the air.

"We have at most half-an-hour." Lestrade answered, and Serena ran after Sherlock.

"I'm looking for two men." Sherlock said to the desk attendant.

"That's great." She said dryly.

"They would've checked in last evening. One would've been tall, big, with brown hair. He may have seemed nervous."

"I am not authorized to give out that information." The desk attendant said, and Serena felt herself being pushed to the side.

"Police, coming through. Detective Inspector Lestrade. I want you to answer this man's questions, now." Lestrade said in his most commanding voice.

"Police?" The attendant paled.

"The men, idiot! What about the men?" Sherlock shouted into her face, and she jerked back.

"No, no one like that."

"You are absolutely sure?"

"Yes, positive." She seemed to be quivering in place.

"Let's move on." Sherlock said, spinning on his heel. He crashed into Serena and looked at her.

She averted her eyes, and he walked past her. His hand steered her toward the door, and she let him. She didn't want to be in control anymore.

They got back in the car and sped off to the next destination.

"Reports are coming in. Nothing has been found in nine of the eleven inns. Two more are left. I have a team arriving at the other, ETA five minutes." Lestrade said.

"How long?" Serena asked, her voice cracked.

"Fifteen minutes." Lestrade answered grimly, and Serena resumed staring at her knees.

After what seemed like simultaneously seconds and eternity, the car screeched to a halt. Sherlock bounded out through the door, and Serena crawled after him.

She looked at the small inn, the lights on. There were four floors.

"Look!" John shouted, pointing at a closed window on the fourth floor. "Smoke!"

The gray was seeping through the cracks. At the sight Serena felt her panic break through her exterior.

"Sandy!" She screamed. "SANDY!"

"All units converge on number ten. I repeat, all units converge." She heard Lestrade say, but she was already sprinting for the door. She saw Sherlock follow right behind, then Lestrade.

A maid asked her what was going on, and Sherlock yelled, "London police." Serena ignored her. She bounded for the stairs, taking two at a time, stretching her legs out to go faster, faster.

Floor one passed by in a blur. Her breath was coming in short gasps, a pain in her side growing slowly.

Floor two was just a blip in her vision, which had narrowed to the steps in front of her. The pounding of many feet followed her, but she didn't know who made the sound. She didn't care.

She didn't notice floor three. It was unimportant.

Floor four was just ahead. She could make it, if only she reached…

BANG!

Serena froze. The sound of thunder behind her stopped. All she could hear was the rushing of blood through her ears.

"NO!" She shrieked, and she bounded up the stairs.

"Serena!" Someone shouted behind her, but she opened the door to floor four.

Someone trailed as she ran down the hall. It was dim, smoky. The smoke poured from underneath a closed door. She twisted the doorknob, but it didn't open. She threw her body against the door, but it didn't give.

"Sandy! Sandy! Answer me!" She screamed.

Sherlock was beside her. He shoved his weight against the door, and she heard splintering.

"Sandy, please! Why won't you answer me?" Serena shouted, her screams turning to sobs.

Sherlock shoved again, and the door burst inward. Serena stumbled in, and felt a wave of heat push her back. She narrowed her eyes. Fire made a ring around the edges of the room.

She leapt through the flames.

"Serena!" It was Sherlock's voice.

Serena hacked smoke from her lungs as she looked around the room. A limp form lay in front of her.

"Sandy?" She knelt next to his head. "Sandy, please, please." Tears that fell from her eyes evaporated immediately as she held his face in her hands. His eyes were open, glassy.

"Serena, we have to go!" Lestrade shouted.

"No! I won't leave him here." Serena screamed at him. She felt two hands grab her waist and drag her away from his body.

"No, no, no!" She pounded on the hands.

"Serena, it's too late! He's gone!" Sherlock shouted.

"No!" She sobbed as he pulled her back through the fire, into the hallway. Lestrade slammed the door shut, and Serena felt the same hands scoop her up from the ground.

"No, take me back, take me back!" She beat on his shoulders with all her strength as they ran down the stairs again.

She felt the cold air on her face as they poured out. She saw the inn staff, standing confused, the police milling around, a fire truck that arrived too late.

"Please…" She sobbed into Sherlock's shoulder, and he released her. John grabbed her before she could run back into the building.

"No." She moaned as she sank to her knees, John putting his arms around her shoulders as he kneeled next to her.

She stayed there as the fire truck sprayed water on the burning room, as the police entered the building, as Sherlock followed. John never moved. He stayed there even when Sherlock came back out, looking grim.

They helped her up, and Sherlock caught her when she tried to collapse again. She just wanted to lie down, give up. She had let Sandy die. It was her fault.

Lestrade murmured a condolence as they passed, putting a brief hand on Serena's numb shoulder. Sherlock and John put her in a cab, sitting on either side. They arrived at Baker Street, and Sherlock deflected Mrs. Hudson's questions as John half-carried Serena up the stairs.

He handed her a cup of tea like he always did and started up a fire in the fireplace.

They all sat in silence for at least an hour.

"I'll have," Serena coughed to clear her throat, "I'll have to tell his sister. She is in rehab. She was doing better. This is going to kill her."

John and Sherlock didn't say a word.

"And the funeral." Serena said. "I have to arrange a funeral."

"Don't worry about that now." John said quietly.

"This is all my fault." Serena whispered.

"No." Sherlock said. "You didn't kidnap Sandy. You didn't fire the bullet."

"But I should've said something." Serena murmured, looking at her tea. It had to be cold by now.

"The fire was started by dozens of candles. The killer poured oil around them so if just one fell over, the entire place went up." Sherlock said.

"Sherlock." John said.

"No, it's alright. I want to know." Serena said, looking at Sherlock.

"We recovered the gun. Molly is doing a post-mortem analysis on the body. We should have results by tomorrow."

Serena nodded. Her entire body felt cold, but she couldn't move to warm herself up.

"We should get some rest. The search begins tomorrow." John said.

"You two go to bed." Serena said. "I don't think I can sleep."

"You shouldn't be alone right now." John said.

"I'll stay up with you." Sherlock offered.

Serena nodded. "I'd like that." She said so quietly it was almost a whisper.


	20. Game

**Told you the chapters would come quick. Okay, here it is, the big chapter...what happens in this chapter?**

**Please review and tell me what you think. Everyone of you has been waiting for this.**

(Sherlock's POV)

John had disappeared off to bed. Serena sat curled in on herself on the couch. Sherlock sat in a chair across from her. They both were silent, each wrapped in their own thoughts.

Sherlock was thinking about Serena. His thoughts lingered on her screams and tears, and the way the killer had pierced her heart. She still clutched the cup of tea, but he figured she'd need something a bit stronger.

He stood up, went to the kitchen, grabbed the bottle of whiskey John kept hidden, two shot glasses he had dug out for an experiment, and headed back. Serena's gaze just barely flicked up as he handed her a glass.

"How is it you know what'll make me feel better?" She said as he poured the glass to the brim.

She downed the shot as he poured it into his own glass and drank it down. It felt like fire racing through his veins, burning down his throat.

He handed Serena the bottle.

"Drinking away our sorrows." She said wryly. "Well, I'm drinking away mine, at least."

"You think I feel nothing over his death?" Sherlock asked.

Serena paused.

"I _am_ sorry that he died, and that we were too late to save him." Sherlock said.

"I am to." Serena said, tipping her glass into her mouth.

Six shots later, both Serena and Sherlock were beginning to feel the effects. Serena's words slurred together, but her eyes managed to focus on Sherlock's anyway. He felt a strange twinge as he looked at her.

"You know what the worst part is?" Serena said, studying Sherlock's face. "I can't tell what you're thinking."

"You can't?"

"Nope." Serena laughed a little. Her voice sounded light.

"I can't tell what you're thinking sometimes too." Sherlock said.

"Really?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"Ooh, oh, I know!" Serena said excitedly. "Let's play a game."

"A game?" Sherlock asked curiously. His own words were slurring, but he didn't mind. He took another drink.

It was strange how completely Serena had forgotten the grief.

"We'll be able to tell each other exactly what we're thinking." Serena nodded vigorously. "Here's how it works. We each get ten questions to ask the other person, and you have to answer truthfully. No funny business."

She patted the couch next to her, and Sherlock stared at her dubiously.

"Come on." She waved her hand loosely at him, and he relented, moving next to her on the couch.

"K, I'll start." She said, her eyebrows furrowed as she stared at Sherlock.

"Come on then." Sherlock said impatiently.

"Um, have you ever had any pets?" Serena said.

"My brother had a cat named Toby. But not me." Sherlock said. "Where did you grow up?"

"Manchester." Serena answered right away. "Why do you and your brother have this feud, anyway?"

Sherlock scratched the back of his head. It seemed rather foolish now. "We always competed against each other. It evolved into what it is today."

"Go on. Ask me." Serena seemed to be thoroughly enjoying herself.

"Favorite color?"

"That seems rather boring for you." Serena remarked with what could only be described as a smirk. "Green. Ever been to America?"

"Once, when I was in university. Why did your parents disown you?"

Serena stopped smiling, and she stared at her glass.

"Not tonight. Tomorrow." She said quietly, and then Sherlock realized. She hadn't forgotten the grief. She had been acting.

"Alright." Sherlock nodded. "You and Lestrade?"

"That counts as your fourth question. What about us?"

"Your whole story."

Serena's smile was back. It made Sherlock happy that she had smiled, and he smiled back.

"Well, I grew up with him. Since we were babies. We went to the same primary school, same secondary. He had such a crush on me. Quite funny, really. I was lucky it didn't ruin our friendship. And then when we went off to uni, we kept in touch. We lost each other for a while. I'm happy I found him again. He's my oldest friend. It's a bit strange. We aren't completely at ease with each other anymore, but it's getting there."

Serena seemed to shake herself out of the past. "What about you? Who were your childhood friends?"

Sherlock shrugged. "I never really had any."

"None? What about uni?"

"Does that count as your seventh?"

Serena giggled. "Sure."

"Everyone at uni hated me. They used to make me read them, and then they would get angry when I revealed too much. It was torture, to every day have to put up with the idiocy. They called me a freak. Imagine that, every day of your life." Sherlock said bitterly. Serena leaned toward him.

"That's awful. When Sergeant Donovan called you that, the first day I met you, I wanted to slap her."

"I'm glad you didn't! You could go to prison for that. Which reminds me, have you ever been to prison?" Sherlock said.

"Nope."

"Ever been arrested?"

"No. I have gotten out of a speeding ticket once."

"Boring."

"Sorry." Serena didn't sound very apologetic.

Sherlock paused. "Am I boring?"

Serena looked almost shocked. "Of course not. You, Sherlock Holmes, are one of the most interesting people I have ever met."

She paused "Your past sounds so lonely. Hasn't there ever been anyone for you, I don't know, a girlfriend, someone like that?"

Sherlock shook his head.

"Come on, be honest."

Sherlock laughed a little. "Fine. There was someone. A woman named Irene Adler. She manipulated my feelings to get what she wanted. She's gone now."

Serena put a hand on his. "Who needs that, huh?"

"And you? Has there been anyone for you?"

Serena shrugged. "I thought there was. I was wrong."

"If John has taught me anything with his many, many girlfriends," Serena laughed at that, "it's that it doesn't matter how much you get hurt, if you love someone, sometimes you just can't keep away."

Serena shrugged. "Trust me, I can keep away from this one."

"How long were you together?"

"Three years. Three years of my life, down the drain." Serena took another drink and handed the bottle to Sherlock. He drank as well. His head began to feel fuzzy, but it was a good thing. It felt good.

"Brr, I'm freezing." Serena scooted closer so her legs were against Sherlock's. "How long have you known John?"

"A year and half or so."

"Last question. Better make it good." Serena said with another wide smile.

Sherlock thought about it. What was the main question he really wanted to ask her?

He couldn't meet her eyes as he said the words.

"You aren't pretending to like me, are you?" He said.

There was a long pause, and Sherlock took another drink.

"Is that what you think?" Serena said.

Sherlock didn't answer.

"No, Sherlock, no. I care about you. I never would pretend. I've only known you for two weeks, but I would trust you with my life a thousand times over."

Sherlock looked at her. Her eyes were wide with worry, and he felt a stab in the stomach at the thought of concerning her.

"Stupid question then." He said.

"No it wasn't." She said.

"Last question. Better make it good." He repeated her words, and she pressed her mouth together.

She looked like she was fighting an internal battle within herself. Trying to make a choice. But it was just a question. What was she so conflicted about?

"I drank too much." She said indistinctly.

"Sorry?" Sherlock asked, and suddenly, her hand wrapped around his neck, and her lips pressed against his.

It only lasted for a second, but Sherlock experienced a thousand things. Confusion, more questions, the warmth of her mouth against his, and above all, his heart pounding faster than it possibly could.

She pulled away, staring at him.

"You were supposed to ask a question." Sherlock said stupidly.

"It was." Serena said hesitantly.

Sherlock didn't have an answer. His mind was blank. He only felt bewilderment.

Serena's face slumped. "I'm going to go." She said quickly, standing up and swaying. "I'm sorry. It was a mistake. Forget it happened." She moved quickly toward the door, her hand in fists by her sides.

Acting on instinct, Sherlock stood up. She could not leave. That was deadly important, and though he didn't know why, he was determined to stop her.

She was about to go out the door, so he just reached for her hand. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her back, and she spun around towards him as he stepped forward.

Their lips met again in a head-on collision. Sherlock still held Serena's hand in his tightly, refusing to let her go. He held her to him for as long as he could.

She finally broke apart from him, staring him in the eye. He had never realized how deep blue her eyes were. It was like they held entire galaxies.

"You're so dramatic!" Serena exclaimed. "You couldn't have just kissed me back, no, you had to almost let me leave-"

Sherlock kissed her again, just to make her be quiet.

When they split again, she smiled.

"Now, you should sleep." Sherlock said.

"Alright then." She said, moving toward the couch.

"Don't be silly. Take my bedroom." Sherlock said.

"What about you?"

"I'm not sleeping."

Serena sighed. "Fine, have it your way. But when you have a massive hangover and you haven't slept, don't blame me." She smiled to tell Sherlock she was joking and walked off to his bedroom.

Sherlock sat down and put his head in his hands. He wasn't entirely sure what he had just done, but he felt happy. He hardly ever felt happy.


	21. Story

**DO NOT SKIP THIS!**

**Now that I'm done yelling, please keep reading. It's important.**

**One, this chapter is pretty important. Serena reveals all...something like that. Anyway, enjoy learning the truth. Some of you have guessed, but I hope I manage to surprise you a bit. Please review. I want to know what you think.**

**Here's the important part. I have decided on my next story, written in tandem with Torn From Yesterday as that one will take FOREVER! It is...drumroll please...Doctor Who!**

**Yes, romance, but slow burn. Very slow burn. The basic description is as follows:**

_**Aliens aren't real. Brooke's always believed that until about three years ago. She's always had a knack for finding things she wasn't supposed to. Like a particular blue box and a peculiar man calling himself the Doctor. If there's one thing Brooke's always wanted, it's adventure. She might just be on her way. 10th Doctor/OC. **_

**The burning question I have is (and thank you CynthiaSylar for answering) is when Brooke should enter. After the Christmas episode of Season 3 or Season 4? I can't decide, and I need you.**

**You might be wondering why I'm already thinking about the next story. The truth is...well, you'll have to read this chapter to find out ;)**

(Serena's POV)

Serena woke up the next morning with a massive headache. She tried to sit up, and her stomach immediately revolted. She ran to the bathroom down the hall.

"Serena, is that you?" John asked loudly. Too loudly. Serena wiped her mouth and walked unsteadily to the kitchen.

"Please be quiet." She whispered.

"Why were you in Sherlock's room? How much did you drink last night?" John asked, helping her to a chair gently. Serena got into it with a sigh.

"A lot. Enough to get me drunk enough to…" She trailed off at the memory and half-smiled.

"To what? Serena, to do what?" John asked insistently, and Serena met John's eyes.

"I may have kissed Sherlock."

John's reaction was instant. His eyes widened and his hand shot to run through his hair.

"You did what exactly?" He asked.

"I kissed him."

"Serena, I'm not sure that was the wisest thing."

"I had to know!" Serena said. "I had to know if he felt the same."

"And?"

Serena smiled again. "Well, he kissed me back, so…"

"Sherlock kissed you? We're talking about the same person, aren't we? Now what?"

Serena shrugged. "I don't know."

John sat down across from her and picked up a newspaper. "Welcome to the family, Serena."

Serena looked at him. "You know how much that means to me."

"Yeah, well, if you hurt Sherlock, I will shoot you." John said matter-of-factly, and Serena considered it.

"Fair enough." She said.

"And if he hurts you, I'll shoot him as well." John added nonchalantly.

Serena had an overwhelming urge to hug John just then.

"And are you doing alright?" John asked, and she remembered.

She shook her head as her throat closed off.

"What do you need me to do?" He was truly one of the kindest people she had ever met.

"Just be there, please? I have to, um, tell his sister. She won't be able to take care of things. I'll have to do that."

"I can arrange the funeral service. One step at a time." John said comfortingly, and Serena nodded.

"Where is Sherlock? I got the impression he was sleeping out here." Serena asked.

"I thought he was in there with you." John said, and Serena stood up.

"Sherlock?" She called out, moving to the bedroom. He wasn't there.

"Sherlock?" John said. "What are you doing?"

Serena rushed to the kitchen and saw Sherlock, half-asleep, stretched out on the table.

He sat up and looked around. "What am I doing?" He asked.

"Why are you on the table?" Serena asked, and Sherlock met her eyes. His flashed, and he looked away. Serena felt her chest tighten as she struggled to take in breath.

"I'm not entirely sure." Sherlock groaned and pressed a hand to his forehead.

"Tea." John said.

"Tea is your solution for everything." Serena said, and she sat at the table.

"Hey." She said to Sherlock.

"Hello."

Neither of them said anything else, but Serena felt that the silence was unbearable.

"So, um, last night." She said.

"Yes." He looked at her.

"I totally understand if it means nothing to you. We were both drunk, and emotions were running high."

"Is that it was to you? A drunken mistake."

Serena glanced down. "Not to me it wasn't. It means a lot to me."

"I'm not quite sure what you're saying, Serena."

"Oh, don't be think, Sherlock." John said abruptly. "She's saying she likes you. She's asking if you feel the same."

Serena glared at John and felt her stomach flop. "Well, I was trying to be subtle about it." She muttered with another angry glance at John.

Sherlock stayed quiet, and the kettle began to whistle.

"But why me? Most people dislike me."

"I'm not most people."

"No." Sherlock said. "No, you truly aren't. And I've always thought love was a disadvantage."

Serena felt as though the floor had given way and she was plummeting.

"But maybe it is both strength and weakness." Sherlock added, shrugging.

"Depends on the pair." Serena said just as calmly.

"Yes. It depends on the pair."

Serena felt herself smiling before she started laughing uncontrollably. She shouldn't have been. The demons were haunting her. One of her friends had died, and her ghosts had reappeared, but she didn't care in that moment.

And when John started laughing along with her, Sherlock's smile made her want to fight against the demons to keep what she had found. What she had earned.

"So what's next?" John asked, and Serena's smile faded.

"I have to go." She said, picking up her phone.

"Where?"

"Sandy's sister. She needs to hear it from me." Serena flipped open her phone. She dialed the number feeling like her stomach was being beat with a whisk.

"Michelle?" She asked.

"Serena! I knew you would call." Michelle's voice was thick with tears.

"The police told you." Serena said.

"It's so terrible. I can't believe it." Michelle sobbed.

"It'll be alright. I could visit you, if you wanted."

"No, I'm fine." She didn't sound fine.

"I'll take care of everything." Serena promised her.

"I-I have to go." Michelle said brokenly, and she hung up. Serena snapped shut her phone and looked at Sherlock and John.

Sherlock was the first to move toward her. He grabbed her before she hit the ground, supporting her weight.

"I still can't believe it." She said faintly as John moved in front of her.

"I know." Sherlock said softly.

"What do you want us to do?"

Serena thought through her head. "The funeral should be soon. A few days from now. The police will have his effects by now. Michelle isn't in a state to pick them up."

"We can do that after you eat something." John said firmly, and Sherlock tightened his grip on Serena.

"Thank you." Serena said.

The day passed in agony. Between the hangover and the grief, Serena felt like falling asleep and not waking up for the rest of her life. John never stopped comforting her, and Sherlock never seemed to let her go.

They went to the police station, where Sergeant Donovan kept quiet for once. Lestrade asked her if there was anything he could do, and she told him to catch the man. The man who had started everything.

Serena visited Sandy's flat as well. It had already been stripped, but she could feel the way he had made it his. She broke down there, and Sherlock and John left her alone.

She didn't want to eat, but John forced her to. She didn't want to stop moving, because moving kept the grief away, but they returned to Baker Street in the evening.

They walked upstairs somberly, and the moment they got inside, Serena fell to the couch. John turned on the lights, and they both sat, John on the chair and Sherlock next to Serena on the couch. Their shoulders pressed together just enough.

Serena knew what she had to do. She knew she should just get it over with.

"You deserve to know the truth." She said softly.

"Not tonight." John said.

"If I don't do it now, I never will." Serena said, and she stared at her hands in her lap. She took a deep breath, and her lips began forming the words she'd been waiting to say for so long.

"It was four years ago when I met him. I was in university. I ran into him on the street. He was having a panic attack, but I calmed him down. He called me his angel. He used to be so charming. He told me he had this fear of being alone. Monophobia. I told him I was studying psychology, and he asked me out for coffee. His name was, is Michael Burns." Serena stiffened when she said it, and she knew they noticed.

"We talked for hours. I didn't even realize. And he asked me out again and again. I didn't want to. I knew he was insecure. He used to panic when I left the room sometimes, and he had nightmares almost every night." Serena swallowed.

"And then, six months after I met him, my mother told me she had met someone. She wanted me to go out with him instead. We fought. She told me I was in love with someone damaged, someone irreparable. I didn't listen. I didn't care. I kept seeing Michael. After only a year, he proposed."

Serena heard the sharp intake of breath from John. Sherlock's hand gripped hers, and she squeezed it in thanks.

"I said yes, of course. I loved him. I was on top of the world. I thought nothing could go wrong. I was a fool. When my parents found out, they were furious. My mom told me she would never allow it to happen. She told me I was wasting my potential as a wife on a psychopath. I ignored them, and they disowned me." Serena's voice tightened in anger.

"I'm so sorry." John said quietly.

"How could they? How could they?" Serena shouted. "They abandoned me. I was their only child, and they abandoned me!"

She sighed. "Michael and I moved. We moved miles and miles away. I haven't seen them since."

This was the part she hated the most.

"We were happy, for a while. For a year and a half, we were engaged, waiting for the right time to settle down and get married. But Michael's fear was getting worse. I would go out, and he would become paranoid about what I was doing, who I was with. We began fighting constantly. He wouldn't let me go anywhere without him. About two years in, I broke off the engagement. I told him it was over." Serena felt herself becoming ice, except for her burning eyes.

"That night, the night I packed up to leave, he wouldn't let me. He blocked the door and told me that we could start over. He scared me. I was trapped. I couldn't get out. I told him that I didn't love him anymore. He lost it. He screamed at me that I was going to stay, or he would, he would…"

"Kill you." Sherlock said coldly, his grip tightening, and Serena nodded.

"He was so afraid of being alone, you see. The fear possessed him. He couldn't let me go. So I continued living in his house, living in constant fear that one day he would snap."

"How long?" Sherlock asked.

"Nine months." Serena answered. "And then, finally, he had to leave the house. I can't remember why, but I saw my chance and I took it. I wasn't really thinking. It was all instinct. But I ran, and I ran right to him." Serena shuddered. "I thought he would kill me. I almost wish he had. Then it would've been over. Instead, he dragged me into the house. We had a basement. He took me in there. He had already installed handcuffs to the wall, like a torture machine. He chained me there, turned off every light, and left me to rot." Serena felt herself shivering, and she leaned against Sherlock. His entire body was tensed.

"You asked me if my fear was trauma or part of me. I said I always had it. I lied." She whispered.

"I was fine for a few days, maybe a week. Once a day he would feed me and give me water and scream. I wished that he would kill me, but he never did. I hoped someone would realize that he was insane. I prayed."

"You have no idea how terrible it is, being trapped in constant darkness, no sound, no light, nothing there. I could barely move. So I lost it. I began screaming and crying and struggling. The handcuffs were so tight I couldn't move, but I pulled against them." Serena pulled her hand from Sherlock's and pulled up the long-sleeve to reveal her wrist.

A ring of shiny pink skin surrounded her wrist. "There was a reason I always wear these. It was to hide the scars." She whispered.

"How could he?" John said angrily.

"He was insane."

"Don't make excuses!" John shouted, and Serena recoiled.

"What he did was wrong! More than that, it was torture!" John shouted.

"You think I don't know! I was chained there for weeks, struggling and fighting and he just watched!"

"How did you get away?" Sherlock asked, examining the scars.

"One day, he seemed calmer. He released me and let me walk around upstairs a bit. I hadn't seen the sunlight for almost a month, and it gave me courage. When he turned the other way, I grabbed this massive vase and smashed it over his head. He fell unconscious, I grabbed all the money I could, my clothing, my car, and ran. I ran all the way to London. I told Lestrade everything. He tried to track Michael down, but he had vanished. He changed my identity for me, and I've been hiding ever since. Until now. Now he's found me, and this time he will kill me." Serena said.

The room was quiet for a very long time. Serena rested her head, exhausted, against Sherlock's shoulder.

"I'll kill him." Sherlock said.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I never said anything. I thought that if I pretended it never happened, it would go away. But it never does." Serena said, her voice muffled in Sherlock's shoulder.

"You aren't alone, Serena. We'll protect you, Lestrade and us. He's not going to murder you too."

Serena was already drifting off, into the sleep she had wanted.

"Don't leave." She whispered.

"I won't." Sherlock told her.

**So tell me what you think? Review please!**

**Anyway, if you read the bold text above, a synopsis awaits for you in thanks:**

_**Serena and Sherlock have finally discovered how they feel about each other. But with Michael entering his endgame, neither of them is safe from his wrath. And someone's going to get hurt.**_

_**But what they don't know is that if they both survive, the worst is yet to come. The King with the Key is coming to London, and he doesn't want Sherlock to have a happy fairytale ending. **_

**Don't worry! The story won't end with Reichenbach. But there will be a hiatus until Season 3 comes out, and precious few chapters left until then. In that hiatus, I'll attempt to get as much of Torn From Yesterday out there, and start Doctor Who. Are you excited?**


	22. Bomb

**Hello, hello, hello! Short little intro today! Please review and enjoy, and if you haven't answered my question from the last chapter, please answer! Thank you!**

Serena didn't sleep peacefully that night. She woke up constantly, and when she slept, her dreams were haunted by faces.

But every time she woke up, Sherlock was there. He didn't look at her, but his presence chased away the nightmares she had.

She almost couldn't believe it. It was overwhelming. She had kissed Sherlock, Sandy died, Michael was back, and above all that she had sleep deprivation.

Oh, and she couldn't forget work. She had to go in, help with the recovery. Maybe that would help her to help herself.

"You're awake." Sherlock said. He had dark circles under his eyes.

"Did you sleep at all?"

"Not really."

Serena yawned. "As much as I hate to say it, I have work."

"You don't have to go."

"Yes, I do. It's important to me." Serena stood up. "I have to go home and get ready. It's already two in the afternoon."

"I'll go with you. I need to look around the office."

Serena smiled, and John came around the corner.

"Excellent, you're here! We can be off then." Sherlock said, beating Serena to the door.

The office was quiet today. Not many people were around. Mary's office door was closed. Daniel's was open, but Serena ignored it. She walked straight to Mary's office and knocked.

"Who is it?"

"Amanda. It's Amanda." Serena said.

"Come in." Serena pushed open the door to see Greg and Sergeant Donovan.

"You two here already?" Serena asked.

"Investigating. Someone leaked the victims' files to the killer." Greg said.

"How do you know?" Sherlock asked.

"Amanda, the phobias are private. Only someone with direct access to the files knows what they are." Mary said.

"So, someone in this office-" Serena said.

"Helped the killer murder them."

Serena looked around. "Someone who had access to the files." She spun on her heel and turned.

"Don't do anything rash." Sherlock said.

"Oh, I'm beyond doing something rash. You might have to stop me from committing murder!" Serena said angrily.

She burst through the door, and Daniel jumped to his feet. "Amanda, wh-what are you-"

"You bastard." She cut him off coldly.

"Excuse me?" Daniel walked closer, and Serena swung.

"Serena, what the hell?" Greg asked.

"That hurt!" Daniel said, and Serena took a step closer.

"How could you? How could you give him the files?" She shouted, and the room went quiet. Daniel licked his lips nervously.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"How much?" Sherlock drawled, but he held Serena back with one hand on her arm.

"Huh?"

"How much did he pay you?" Sherlock asked.

Daniel's face paled. One side was already bruising from where Serena had punched him. "That woman, she's crazy. I could sue, you know!"

"For what? You don't have any witnesses. I just saw you fall. Terrible accident." Greg said calmly. "Did you see anything, Mary?"

"Nope." Mary looked incredibly happy.

"You, Sergeant Donovan?"

Donovan looked shocked, but she smoothed it over. "Just him falling. Are you alright?"

"You can't do this to me."

"You helped him murder them. That's accessory to murder." Greg said.

"I was earning money! So much money! And who cares about these people? They are wastes of space and oxygen." Daniel shouted, and Serena smiled.

"And there's the confession." She said before turning around and walking back through the crowd. Her fist ached, but it had been worth it.

"The question is, how did Michael get so much money?" She murmured to Sherlock as he walked up behind her.

Sherlock looked thoughtful as they waited for the police to come back out.

Daniel struggled against their grip as he stared hatefully at Serena.

"Your name isn't Amanda." He said.

"Nope. Thank god I didn't have to hear you calling me by my real one."

"You're too late, anyway." He spat at her.

"Too late? For what?" Serena asked.

"He's already taken the last victim."

Serena paled, and Greg asked, "Who?"

"Kayla. You helped him kidnap a seven year old girl." Serena said.

"Where are they?" Sherlock asked, and Daniel smiled.

"How would I know? I was only the informant."

Serena ran a hand through her hair.

"Stay calm." John told her.

"I'm trying."

"We've cracked the code. We can find her quickly. Come on!" Sherlock said.

The entire police department was looking. Serena had told them. My. The word was my. When John asked her why it couldn't be angel, she told him that she was the angel. She would be the last target. He looked rather sick after that.

Sherlock stood in a corner, eyes closed, racing through all of London in his head. Serena heard him muttering under his breath.

"My, mine, pit, shaft, no, no…" He went on and on.

"What do you need?" Serena asked him.

"I don't know! Inspiration!"

Serena cast around for thought. "Um, well, my and mine literally isn't turning up much. Pit, shaft, for mine isn't either, right."

Sherlock shook his head.

"Well, what's related to mines? Digging, accidents, darkness, um, gold?"

Sherlock's eyes shot open.

"Serena, you're a genius!" He exclaimed, grabbing her face in both hands and pressing his lips against hers.

He released her quickly and ran over to a man on a computer.

"Gold Lane. She's on Gold Lane, Greater London." He said.

"Are we just ignoring…?" Greg trailed off.

"What?" Serena looked at him. Her cheeks were hot, but she took a deep breath.

"Nothing." He said, and Serena exchanged an amused glance with John before noticing.

Every person in Scotland Yard was staring at her in shock.

"Do you mind? I'm trying to stop a killer here!" She let her voice carry, and they all looked away.

"That's new." Greg said.

"Yeah, a bit."

"I think you're mad." He said, and Serena looked at him, surprised.

"In a good way." He added quickly.

"No, it's fine. I think I'm a bit mad myself."

"Got it!" Sherlock exclaimed. "Come on!" He dashed out of the door. His head poked back around.

"I don't have a car or all day. Are you coming or not?" He said, and Greg, John, and Serena trailed after him.

Gold Lane looked peaceful, normal. Just a regular street. But Serena figured those were the most deceptive.

"Which house?" Greg asked.

"Well, let's see." Sherlock said patronizingly. "We have a dozen houses, and one is for sale. I'm not sure." He rolled his eyes and headed for the house.

"I was just asking." Greg said.

Serena sprinted for the door as Sherlock tried the knob. He heaved his weight against it, and it burst open.

"Kayla?" Serena shouted up the stairs, and she heard scuffling.

"Someone's here." She shouted, and Sherlock disappeared from her side. She ran up the stairs and down a hall that seemed to last forever.

"Kayla, I'm coming." She tried the last door, and it wouldn't open. She heard crying from inside.

"Help me!" She shouted, and John came pounding up the stairs.

"Move!" He shouted, pulling out his gun. He shot at the lock, and Serena covered her face with her hands as wood flew. John shoved the door open, and Serena ran in.

Kayla was in a ball, shivering. The room was completely dark, pitch black, except for the light filtering in through the open door.

"Kayla!" Serena skidded to a stop in front of her and pulled her in close.

Kayla was sobbing, her little body heaving. Serena held her close. "It's alright, sweetie. You're going to be alright."

"Scared. Man." Kayla said through her sobs.

"I know. And I was so scared I had lost you." Serena said.

"Serena, come on." John said, and Serena picked up Kayla.

"Where's the gun?" He asked her.

"What gun?"

"The gun they commit suicide with."

Serena looked back into the room. No gun.

"This time was different. Why?" John asked, and Serena's eyes widened.

"Because he wants to draw us out into the open." She said. "Run!"

They sprinted down the stairs and outside.

"Serena, why are you running?" Greg asked.

"There wasn't a gun!" She shouted, opening the car and putting Kayla inside.

"Watch her!" She told an officer. "Where's Sherlock?"

"Michael was here. He ran off, jumped a fence. Sherlock's chasing after him."

"We're all in danger. Michael used Kayla to draw us out. He wasn't trying to hurt her. He wanted me out in the open."

Greg's eyes widened. "Everybody back off of the house."

"Sir?" Donovan asked.

"Do it!"

The officers backed away from the deserted house. Seconds passed with nothing, and finally, Serena exhaled.

"Thank god." She said, and the entire house exploded.

She was thrown back, into Greg. They fell in a jumble of limbs, rocking ground, fire. She heard shouts, and raised her ringing head. Bodies were everywhere, but they were all moving. John bolted to his feet a few steps away, his eyes wild. Serena heaved herself up.

"Are you hurt?" John asked her, and she shook her head.

"Everybody alright?" Greg asked.

"All men accounted for."

"Good." Greg looked at Serena. "Looks like you were right."

"It was such a beautiful house too." Serena said grimly.

Sherlock returned without Michael. He told them that Michael had disappeared. He heard the explosion and ran back. No one was seriously harmed. Authorities had taken Kayla for questioning. Serena didn't have the chance to say goodbye among the chaos.

The fact that Michael was still out there made Serena angrier. She was done. She'd had enough of playing games in the dark, of running away.

It was time to take the fight to him.


	23. Okay

**Oh I love making you wait for updates ;). Actually, I had a serious writer's block on this chapter, mostly because it doesn't seriously drive the plot until the end, and I'm all about plot-driven story-lines. So yeah, this chapter is mostly filler and almost entirely fluff between Sherlock and Serena.**

**This story has gotten a great response, more than I imagined possible. A couple days ago, I had 820 views in one day, so thank you, thank you, thank you. Thank you to all my followers, favoriters, reviewers, readers, etc.**

**By the way, I do not own Doctor Who. **

**Anyway, please review and enjoy!**

"We did it." John said as they collapsed on the couch in 221B.

"Yes, John, thank you for stating the obvious." Sherlock said bitterly.

"What's wrong?" Serena asked him as he paced in front of them.

"He's gone! He knew what we were planning all along. He knew we'd figure it out." Sherlock said angrily. "I hate it when they're one step ahead. It makes it so much more frustrating."

"We'll catch him."

"Not unless-" Sherlock cut off his words and kept pacing.

"Unless what, Sherlock?" John asked.

"Unless he gets someone else." Sherlock snapped, staring at Serena.

"And you're afraid it'll be me." Serena said softly.

"I'm not afraid."

"It's okay to admit you are."

Sherlock sat down next to her heavily. "I never admit to things if I can help it."

"It's not like I'll just go with him willingly. I'll fight back. I'll die before I let him torture me again." Serena said.

"That's exactly what I'm talking about! That's what I don't want to happen."

Serena smiled. "Are you _admitting_ to something, Sherlock Holmes?"

Sherlock snorted, and Serena shoved her shoulder against his playfully.

He rolled his eyes. "Maybe. Possibly. The smallest of chances. Like winning the lottery-"

Serena kissed him to keep him from talking. She loved the way his lips fit to hers perfectly, the way shivers of warmth ran up and down her spine.

John coughed loudly. "I'm still here, you know."

"Oh, John, do shut up." Sherlock said.

"Just remember, when you two are walking down the aisle, that I'm the one who predicted this." John said.

Serena laughed. "John, don't be silly. I've known you for what, three weeks?"

Sherlock thought about it. "Pretty much."

"Exactly." Serena said, looking at John, who had a smirk on his face.

"Yep. Whatever you say." He said, grabbing a newspaper and opening it with a loud rustle of paper.

"We need some way of protecting you." Sherlock said.

"She can just stay here." John said loudly.

"You'd be safe?" Sherlock said it like a question, and Serena nodded.

"Sounds like a good plan. I can get my stuff from my apartment later today." She said before laughing.

"What?" Sherlock asked.

"Oh, nothing. It's just, I've known you for three weeks and I'm already moving in." She kept laughing as Sherlock stared and John chuckled to himself.

After a while, Serena turned on the telly.

"What are you watching?" Sherlock asked.

"What!" John and Serena exclaimed.

"Is something wrong?"

"You mean to tell me," Serena said, "That you have never, ever watched Doctor Who."

"Crime against humanity." John muttered, putting down his newspaper and moving to the couch to watch.

"What is it about?"

"Time travel. Well, technically, it's about a man called the Doctor who is a time traveler. He travels around in this blue police box with humans."

"He's an alien?"

"Yes."

"But that is completely unrealistic."

"Yes, but that's what makes it fun. Suspend belief for a moment, suspend reality. Picture a world where you could see anything you wanted in time and space, where hundreds of alien species are real." Serena said.

"This one's a good one." John said.

"This one's a sad one." Serena said. "The first time I watched it, when it air, I cried."

"You cried?"

"It was a sad moment. Nothing was the same after the 10th Doctor regenerated."

"Regeneration?"

"Oh, it's where when he's dying, he can use this power to create this new body for himself. So he could live forever. He doesn't die, but he has a totally different personality."

"You cried over a time-traveling alien who travels in a blue police box and didn't die, but not really." Sherlock said disbelieving.

"Yep."

"That is peculiar."

"Oh, just wait until you see it." Serena said, her eyes fixed on the screen.

"His last words, remember?" John said wickedly, and Serena groaned.

"Stop." She said.

"Alright, alright." John said, and Serena could hear him chuckling under his breath. She leaned against Sherlock as he watched the television, completely engaged, his eyebrows knit together.

Serena was so emotionally unbalanced that she did cry when the Doctor died. Silently, just a little, but tears dripped from her chin to her lap all the same. She looked at Sherlock to see him looking at her.

"I couldn't help it."

"It was interesting to watch." Sherlock admitted.

Serena wiped water from her cheeks and noticed John typing away.

"What are you doing?" She asked him curiously.

"Writing on the blog. People want to know how the case is going. Don't worry, I'm not adding you in at all. Just that we're investigating suicides"

"Please don't tell the public I cried over an episode of Doctor Who." Serena said.

"Never." John vowed.

"But we haven't solved it yet." Sherlock said.

"So?"

"I don't want people thinking I'm stupid."

"People like hearing frequent updates, Sherlock. They want to know you aren't perfect."

"Why on earth would they want to know that?"

John shook his head. "Once all this is over, I should post about you and Serena."

"No!" Serena and Sherlock said simultaneously.

"It'll be all over the newspapers anyway."

"No, no, and no." Serena said.

"Fine. Whatever you want. It's your life."

"Why would it be in the newspapers?"

"Oh, don't be thick, Sherlock. It's a serial killer case that has been very well publicized. Solve this case, and we'll have clients left and right."

Serena yawned. "I should go to my flat and get some things."

"I'll come."

"I'm fine."

"With your ex-fiancée running around London?"

Serena sighed. "Fine."

"See you guys." John said as they walked out the door.

They had gotten halfway to Serena's flat when Sherlock got a text.

"Lestrade." He said. "He needs me at Scotland Yard."

"Go." Serena said.

Sherlock looked like he was about to protest.

"Go on. I'll be fine. I'll meet you back at the flat, alright?" She said, and he nodded, hailing a taxi and getting in.

Serena walked to her flat with a smile on her face. She walked up the stairs and opened the door without thinking about it. Her feet carried her in as she smiled.

Then she realized what she should've realized seconds ago. The door had been unlocked.

"Hello angel." A familiar voice said, and all the blood in Serena's body seemed to run out her feet.

"Miss me?"


	24. Call

**I'm responding to quite a few people responding to Serena's idiocy. I understand. It was the stupidest thing she could've done. Anyway, next chapter is up! Please review and enjoy!**

"Not possible." Serena said, and Michael stepped into the light.

"It's me, darling." He said with a cold smile. He looked bad, the bags under his eyes dark, his eyes themselves tortured. His clothes hung off his body in the worst possible way, the way that told you a person had been starving.

"Michael," Serena glanced toward the door she had just closed, "what do you want?"

Michael laughed. "Shouldn't have walked home without your friend, huh?"

"Please, don't-" Serena gulped, "Don't do anything you'll regret."

"Regrets? I have no regrets."

"You don't regret killing those four people. Kidnapping Kayla?"

"They were means to a greater end."

Serena backed away from Michael, her hands searching for the doorknob, and Michael's mouth twitched.

"I wouldn't try that if I were you." He said, pulling out a gun from beneath his jacket. Serena froze.

"You should've known. You should've known I'd never stop looking."

"I thought you'd change once I left, that you'd become a better person."

"Than why'd you hide from me?" Michael said, his expression still light.

"I was afraid."

"I was afraid." Michael nodded, his face getting serious. "I was afraid that you'd leave me. So I made sure you wouldn't. But you escaped, didn't you? You left and made yourself a new family."

Serena backed straight into the wall. "He'll come looking for me."

"Let him!" Michael shouted. "I don't care about him or his friend, or the police! I'll kill them all if it means you get what you deserve! I've had a month to plan, Serena, to plan and wait in the dark. I don't want you anymore. I want you to freeze! Just like your friends! Why will you stay with him and not me! What's wrong with me? He's no better! I am! I am your soul mate! You told me that!"

Serena shivered, her knees getting weak. "You'll have to kill me. I'm not going anywhere."

Michael smiled. "I thought you'd say that. I've known you for too long, Serena. I know how you think. That's why I've set a little trap."

Serena shook her head. "What? What are you talking about?"

"You see, I couldn't find you. I started searching for someone to help me. And then, he appeared, offered to help. He knew where you were. He gave me the idea for how to kill the victims. I asked him why. He said it was all to draw the attention of one man."

"Sherlock."

"Bingo. I agreed. I killed my first three victims. Then you started getting close. I took Sandy and made sure you could track me. I took Kayla so you could track me even easier, by sheer will alone. But how to make you come without a fuss?"

Serena stayed silent.

"My sponsor had the answer. He proposed assassins, targeting your new family from the inside."

"No."

"Yes. One at Scotland Yard, sights set on your childhood friend. One at 221B Baker Street, gun pointed towards John Watson. And one following Sherlock."

"You can't!" Serena said, slumping to the ground. "Please, Michael, don't."

"They fire on my command. You have thirty seconds to make your choice."

Serena panicked. She didn't know what to do.

"Twenty-nine."

Sacrifice herself to torture and almost certain death, or sacrifice the lives of three of her closest friends.

"Twenty-one."

She didn't need to think.

"I'll come with you." She said, and Michael smiled. He took a walkie-talkie from his pocket and muttered something into it.

"Wait." Serena said. "Just one thing."

"What?"

"One last phone call. Please?" She asked, and Michael frowned.

"If you tell anyone where you are, I'll call back the snipers to finish them off."

"Understood." Michael handed her a cell phone, and with shaking hands, Serena punched in the number.

"Who is this?"

Serena smiled at the sound of his voice. "Sherlock?" She said quietly.

"Serena? Are you alright?"

Serena gulped air. "You should've walked me to my apartment, I suppose."

"I'm coming."

"No!" Serena shouted. "You can't! He'll kill you, and John, and Lestrade. I can't let that happen."

Sherlock was quiet.

"Just listen, please. I-I'm probably not going to be able to survive. I'll give in to it. I'm so afraid, Sherlock. I'm so scared I'll never see you again."

"You are not allowed to die."

"Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock. I can't stop saying your name. It's funny how when you're about to die, everything speeds up and nothing else matters but the people you care about. I don't have enough time to care about you as much as I should, Sherlock. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Serena began to cry.

"Stop. Stop it! You are going to live."

"I just needed to hear your voice." Serena said through sobs. "I needed to hear you one more time before I-"

"Stop!" Sherlock sounded panicked now. "Wait, stop, hold on. Give me time, I need more time."

"Hurry up." Michael said roughly, and Serena choked back another sob.

"I have to go. But I want you to know, the last few weeks have been some of the worst of my life. But meeting you, sharing them with you has made it all bearable."

"Serena-"

"Don't forget me! Do that for me. Don't forget!" Serena cried.

"I could n-" Sherlock's voice broke, "I could never forget you. But you have to do something for me. Hang on, Serena, you brave, brilliant person. Hang on."

"I will. I-" Michael yanked the phone from Serena's ear, and she choked on the tears running from her eyes.

"Get up!" Michael said coldly, dragging Serena to her feet and pushing her out the door.

(Sherlock's POV)

Sherlock hung up the phone slowly, in a state of shock. He did everything too quickly, at hyper-speed, and now, when it mattered, he had no time.

"Sherlock!" Lestrade ran over. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"He has Serena." It was amazing how much three words could change a person's face. In Lestrade, those words darkened his entire face, made him murderous and angry and above all terrified. Sherlock was experiencing those emotions like a tidal wave.

"Are you alright?" Lestrade asked Sherlock coldly.

"Why wouldn't I be okay?"

Lestrade took a breath in. "Any other person would punch you in the face right now, but not me, because I've seen how much you care about Serena. I've seen how she lights up when you walk into a room. So don't pretend you don't care, because this is life or death, and caring could save her life."

Sherlock ran his hands through his hair. "Call John. He needs to be here."

Lestrade nodded, and Sherlock paced the room, thinking about whether or not his conversation with Serena was their last.


	25. Fight

**AHHHH! It's here! Finally. **

**Somehow I managed to get super-duper uninspired on this chapter. Sorry about that. **

**Especially to my reviewers who voiced their horror at there being no more story. Thank you for telling me and continue to do so.**

**I never expected to get this much of a response. Almost 100 reviews, 82 followers, over 10,000 views. What did I do to deserve this? People who love Sherlock truly are the best. Thank you :)**

Her worst nightmare, coming true. Fear was already rooting itself in her head. She was imagining the worst scenarios possible. But nothing could be worse than this.

One hand was handcuffed to the wall. Her feet were cuffed as well, so close together she couldn't walk if she could stand. The room was hospital-white, completely empty. The door didn't have a window. Michael stood in front of her, gloating over her, his feral smile back on his face.

He twirled a gun in one hand absentmindedly. Serena watched his every movement like a cornered animal. Her heart was in every one of her fingertips, in her throat, her head, beating painfully against her chest. She was sure Michael could hear it.

"Oh, angel, I've waited so long for this."

"Two months isn't exactly a long time." Serena said to stave off the panic.

"You have no idea. It was eternity, waiting for this moment. The moment when I leave and you scream and you finally choose to end the pain and misery."

"That's not going to happen."

Michael laughed. "Serena, we both know you're lying. You'd like to believe fear doesn't have control over you, but fear controls everything. It motivates people to act."

"Why don't you just kill me?"

"Because I want you to do it."

(Sherlock's POV)

"He'll have Serena kill herself." Sherlock said to John and Lestrade.

"Our only clue lies with the street names." Lestrade says.

"Michael won't make it easy for us." John said.

"Yes, he's quite determined." Sherlock said bitterly.

"Good thing we are too." Lestrade said, and Donovan came into the office.

"We have a hit. Angel Street, near St. Bart's." She said.

Sherlock followed slower than the others.

"Sherlock?" John asked. "I know you're worried, but we're going to find her. Serena can hold on."

"Nothing adds up. The bomb, how he found Serena, the way he's obviously been following her. How?" Sherlock said as they walked. His jaw went slack.

"Oh. Of course!" He said, and he rushed outside.

"Sherlock, wait!" John shouted from behind.

"Think about it, John! A man wants to commit a series of murders, but can't find his main subject. Who does he ask for help? And when he needs a bomb, who better to supply it?"

"He is not back." John's face tightened.

"He's been helping Michael get to Serena so he can draw me out. Make me dance and flail helplessly while she dies."

"Come on, you two." Lestrade called over, and Sherlock walked to the car.

"And I stumbled right into his trap." Sherlock said before they got into the car and sped off.

(Serena's POV)

Michael strode to the door, and Serena lost her self-control.

"Why! Why couldn't you just accept the fact that we were over? Why couldn't you have moved on?"

Michael paused. "I didn't want to be alone."

"You'll be even more alone now! Don't you see that?"

"I'm not afraid anymore! I am not weak! I beat you. I beat you! I am not afraid!" Michael shouted, and Serena quailed against the wall.

"Think about that when I leave you alone here, trapped in a room where no one will ever find you." He spat as he stalked to the door.

"He'll find me. There can't be many streets will angel in the name."

Michael chuckled. "What makes you think it'll be that simple?"

He closes the door and Serena watched the lock turn. When she heard the click, it was as if someone had made the air thinner and her bounds tighter. She gasped for oxygen, pulling against the chain driven into the wall.

Her gaze fell on the gun on the floor, within reaching distance. She couldn't remember Michael putting it down, but he must have.

"No!" She said breathlessly. She had to fight back. If Michael could get over his fear, so could she.

But the fear was a wild animal that didn't obey commands. It sank its claws into her heart, and she screamed as she pulled against the chains, struggling as the cold edges dug into her wrists. And the wild animal didn't understand pain. It only understood the unwillingness to be caged. So it kept fighting.

(Sherlock's POV)

They pulled up on Angel Street within minutes. It was far from St. Bart's or Scotland Yard at all. Sherlock looked around, panicking, and was met with dozens of windows, office buildings, flats, something of that sort.

"It'll take forever to search all these." Lestrade said.

"No windows." Sherlock said. "He won't want one with windows.

Lestrade nodded. "I'm going to call for backup."

John looked around. "Where do we start?"

"I don't know." Sherlock said through glued-together teeth.

"Serena's strong. She'll hang on." John said.

"What if she doesn't want to?" Sherlock asked grimly.

"Sherlock, stop. You aren't thinking!" John said sharply, and Sherlock nodded.

"No windows, east side probably, near the top." He said, and John nodded before going to relay the information to Lestrade.

"The top floor of that building is under construction." Lestrade pointed to a dismally grey building casting a shadow on the street.

Sherlock nodded and began walking toward it, John following loyally.

(Serena's POV)

She screamed because she was not going to lose

She sobbed because she didn't want to give in.

She pulled against the chains because the fear had taken over.

She thought of Sherlock because it helped her to hang on.

She screamed and sobbed and pulled and thought of him but she was losing and she knew it.

She prayed that she wouldn't go insane. She prayed that she would be brave enough to hang on.

She prayed for Sherlock to find her and hold her and tell her she was safe.

It helped her to focus her mind and grit her teeth and keep fighting.

(Sherlock's POV)

"Sherlock!" Lestrade called as Sherlock paced through the street. John's eyes watched him worriedly.

"Any news? Tell me you have news!" Sherlock said.

"She's not in any of the buildings. My men have looked everywhere."

"Then they aren't looking hard enough!" Sherlock yelled, and John strode over.

"Sherlock, stop. Calm down. Remember Serena. Think of Serena."

Sherlock didn't want to, because that made him afraid and he wasn't sure why but he couldn't stand it.

"Think. Where else would he hide her?" John said.

"Shut up! Just shut up! I don't know!" Sherlock shouted, ignoring the stares he got from Sergeant Donovan.

"What are you feeling?"

"What does that matter!"

"It matters to me!"

"I do-don't think I can find her. I'm letting her down. I'm letting my emotions get in the way." Sherlock said. His hands shook as he ran them through his hair.

"Then use them." John said softly.

"What?"

"Use them. Use your emotions to fuel your mind."

"I can't!"

"Yes, you can! You are Sherlock Holmes and you are brilliant and fantastic and god dammit, you are going to find her!" John shouted, and Sherlock exhaled before grabbed John by the shoulders.

He closed his eyes and thought. "She isn't on Angel Street. Of course, that's an obvious place. He wants to get caught, but he wants her to die first. So it won't be too obvious, but I can figure it out. So, angels in London. Statues, gargoyles, buildings, shops, no, no, no. Companies, no. He'd want us to come here, to Angel Street, but why? Why here? What's close to…" Sherlock's eyes shot open.

"OH!" He let go of John, who stood there looking slightly confused for a moment. "Don't you get it? No, of course not. Silly me. He wanted us here. Why? Because-oh this is brilliant!"

"Sherlock!" John said.

"Sorry. He wanted us here because then we could see that." Sherlock pointed at the building rising above the rest.

"St. Bart's? The hospital?" John asked, and Sherlock began sprinting.

"We could take the car." Lestrade called after him, but he kept running.

(Serena's POV)

Serena had stopped praying. She couldn't make the words form in her mind anymore. She had stopped believing they were going anywhere.

Her muscles hurt from pulling against the handcuffs. She just wanted it all to go away.

The gun was temptation. It was whispering promises of being free.

Sobbing, she reached for it, splaying out to get to it. She felt the icy metal on her fingertips and recoiled.

_Do something for me. Hang on, Serena, you brave, brilliant person. Hang on. _

Serena sobbed harder, but she curled away from the gun. The gun was temptation, but it was the devil wearing a mask. It was the nightmare under her bed, the demons in her dreams. But Sherlock was the angel, and he would come back.

(Sherlock's POV)

His legs never stretched as far as they did then. Sherlock reached the doors in minutes, ignoring the people staring and cars honking as he dashed across the road. He burst through them, running for the front desk.

"Angel." He gasped.

"Excuse me. Do you need help?" The woman asked.

"Listen carefully, because I'm only going to say this once. I'm looking for someone. A patient, maybe anything. Man, blond, woman, dark hair, blue eyes, scared. Anything having to do with the word angel."

"I'm sorry, but I'm not allowed to-"

"Her life is in danger! Does that fit into your rules and regulations!" Sherlock shouted, and he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Let me." Lestrade said, holding up a badge. "Scotland Yard. Answer the question."

The woman looked terrified, but she began typing away on the keyboard.

"Well, we did get a new employee yesterday. His name is logged as Michael Angelo."

Sherlock slapped his hands on the desk. "Where is he assigned?"

"T-the m-morgue." The woman was stuttering now, and Sherlock nodded.

"Thank you." He said as an afterthought before running for the stairs. Lestrade and John followed right behind, along with more officers. Sherlock guessed five based on the number of footsteps.

He ran downstairs, skipping two or three steps at a time. He desperately wanted to get downstairs. He needed to make sure she was okay, that she wasn't already dead. He couldn't comprehend that idea yet, that she might be dead.

Serena was brave. Serena would hang on to life to see him and John and Lestrade.

He reached the bottom landing and looked around. The morgue was too large to find her on his own…

"Molly Hooper!" He shouted as loudly as he could, and she came running around the corner.

"Sherlock? What is going on?" She asked, her eyes widening when she saw the men behind him.

"Michael Angelo. Where?" He asked.

"Um, no idea. I didn't see him come in this morning." Molly smiled. "He's a nice man."

"No!" Sherlock and John shouted.

"Excuse me?"

"Considering that he's killed four people and kidnapped Serena, I wouldn't call him nice."

"Oh." Molly said.

"Are there any rooms that are locked at the moment? Sound-proof, darkened…" Sherlock asked.

"Um, yes. I'll take you to them. We use them for experiments." Molly said, and she began walking down the hall. Sherlock followed, impatient at her slow pace though she was hurrying.

"Here. There are five. No one comes down here much." Molly said, and Sherlock tried the first door.

"I don't have the key, sorry." Molly said, and Sherlock pulled out his gun.

"That's not going to work." John said, and Sherlock cursed.

"I have someone." Lestrade said, and a man stepped forward.

"Lock-picking." The man said.

"Lestrade?"

"It's a useful talent." Lestrade said. "Unorthodox, but…"

Sherlock nodded in approval. He was surprised at Lestrade's unusually somewhat-intelligent thinking.

The man started on the first door. They waited impatiently for minutes. Finally, Sherlock heard a click. He grabbed the doorknob and twisted it, bursting in.

The room was empty, and he swore.

"Next one. Go, go, go!" He commanded, and the man kneeled besides the next door.

(Serena's POV)

Serena was tired of screaming and crying. She was done with struggling against the chains. Her wrists were cut open, but she couldn't feel the pain.

She had beaten the fear, but now she felt nothing.

No fear, no anger, no longing. Nothing. She was just numb and cold and she wanted to lie down and sleep and not wake up because that seemed easy.

She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.

Then, the door burst open, and her eyes shot back open. All her emotions flooded over her and she stretched out her hand toward the light as a man leaped into the room.

"Serena!" Sherlock bent next to her, and his arms enclosed her shoulders. Serena sobbed into him like a child.

"I knew you would come." She cried, and he pulled her in closer. She let out a whimper as the handcuff cut deeper. She could feel everything now. Her heart pounding, her eyes running down her face, her excruciating pain, her fear.

"I'm here. I found you."

"I w-w-was so scared. I was so close to giving up. But you found me."

"Sherlock?" John poked his head in and he strode over to them.

"Serena." He said, and his gaze landed on her wrist. He looked appalled.

"We're going to search the rest of the morgue for Michael." He said.

"Go. I'll take care of her." Sherlock said as Serena leaned against him, wrapped up in his arms.

John nodded and walked back out of the room.

Serena looked up at Sherlock. He had never looked so perfect as he did right then. His face was relieved, terrified, overjoyed, and on his cheek there was a single tear. Serena brushed it away with her free hand, and Sherlock pressed his cheek against her head.

"Never again." He murmured, and Serena heard something else. A deep, heavy breathing.

"I've been dreaming about this. Meeting you. My replacement." Michael said. Sherlock jumped to his feet, and Serena looked up at him, unable to move. Her eyes traveled down his arm to the gun in his hand.

"No! P-please no. Don't, stop, please!" She gasped out.

"Isn't she cute? Trying to protect you." Michael said to Sherlock. "Maybe I couldn't get her to kill herself, so I'll settle for you."

"Stop." Sherlock commanded, but Serena could see his chest rising and falling.

"See the brilliance of it! I get to see the look on that bitch's face when I kill you!" Michael shouted angrily.

He extended his arm, and Serena lunged. Not for him, not for Sherlock, but for the demon hiding under her bed.

She brought it up smoothly, aiming for Michael's head. He turned towards her, too slowly to do anything. His eyes widened, and Serena stopped.

She couldn't.

And she never would.

She brought the gun down and fired.

Michael screamed. He screamed, and Serena felt triumph as she watched him fall, holding his knee in pain. She heard footsteps running towards them, but she didn't care.

"I'm the strong one!" She shouted defiantly. "I'm the one who broke through the fear. All this time, you thought you were out to get revenge. But the truth is you were always afraid you'd lose me! You never got rid of it! And after everything you did to me, I wouldn't kill you. Because I am above the fear!"

Her tirade over, she slumped against the wall.

(Sherlock's POV)

Sherlock's heart wanted to explode from his chest. His gun wanted to shoot Michael and put him out of his misery. His hands wanted to hold Serena, but she was being taken to the hospital.

He was waiting for her to be released. He wasn't allowed in. John and Lestrade were, because Lestrade was an officer, and John was a doctor. But he wasn't.

It made him angry. Sherlock was experiencing all sorts of emotions today. But Lestrade had been right. Caring had saved Serena's life.

"Sherlock." John's voice.

"Can I go in?" Sherlock asked.

"Finally. She's pretty shaken up, but she's asking for you." John said with a small smile.

Sherlock nodded and walked toward the door before stopped.

"John?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

John nodded. "I'll wait out here."

Sherlock pushed open the door and was met with Lestrade walking out.

"She's a bit out of it. Pain medication." He said, and Sherlock nodded before brushing past him.

Serena looked at him with unfocused eyes and smiled.

"How are you?" Sherlock asked, sitting in the chair Lestrade had just vacated.

"Fine. No pain." She said.

"That's good." Sherlock said.

"I knew you were coming to save me. I believed in you." Serena said with a nod.

"I was determined."

"What'll happen to him?"

"He'll have a trial and he'll go to jail." Sherlock said, and Serena lifted her hand to place it on top of his.

"I will be alright. I just need time to heal." She reassured him, her eyes getting lower and lower.

"I wanted to kill him." Sherlock admitted. "I wanted him to die for hurting you."

Serena nodded, but her eyes were drifting shut. "That's what happens when you are…" She began breathing deeply.

"When you're what?" Sherlock asked, but she had fallen asleep. He didn't want to wake her, so he just held her hand and watched her be alive.


	26. Recovery

**Hello all my friends! I finally have this next chapter done, which is funny because it's mostly fluff :D**

**Enjoy and please review!**

(Serena's POV)

She was healed. The doctor told her that. He also said she'd be fine with rest and time. She would always have scars, but her wounds had healed.

If the doctor told her that, it must be true. It didn't explain why she felt so fragile, like if anyone held her, she'd shatter. Someone would come along and sweep up broken pieces of porcelain.

She hated when the nurses looked at her pityingly. It only made the porcelain thinner, and she felt weak enough.

Sherlock understood how she felt. He didn't dance around her like if he stared at her too long, she'd faint. She liked him more than ever now. John and him visited every day, probably for longer than they should have. But Serena had gone so long being alone that she welcomed the attention. Greg even visited once, briefly. Serena had liked that, making her life normal again.

She was released three days after the fight. She had been kept for psychological testing, but she had dealt with this before. She wasn't insane, and she had told them that. They didn't believe her, but she was a psychologist herself. She thought she would know.

For example, she knew she wasn't completely better. She still had nightmares. And she would wake up, in the dark, and no one would be there. So she would try to sleep again futilely.

Sherlock and John came for her at the end of those three days. When she took her first steps out of the hospital, she felt like she was taking the first steps on a long healing.

Last time she had never healed. She had recovered, but she had been alone. She had settled for recovery. This time she wouldn't stop until she felt like she was made of steel, not porcelain.

They brought her back to Baker Street. Mrs. Hudson had fussed over her, and Serena had smiled. It felt good to smile knowing the threat had disappeared for good.

They stayed up late that night, laughing and celebrating and, for Sherlock and Serena, holding hands and kissing and smiling for the sake of smiling. John called some people around nine. Molly, Greg, Serena didn't know if there was anyone else. But it was fun.

"And you're alright?" Greg asked for the hundredth time.

"Yes, fine!" Serena held up one of her still bandaged wrists. "Except for these, I'm in perfect health."

"Excellent! Also, about business, i was wondering if you wanted me to restore Serena Gambles. Or do you prefer Amanda now?"

"Give me back Serena." Serena said happily.

"Fantastic!" Greg had tossed back quite a few drinks already, and he swayed slightly as he walked to talk to Molly.

"So, what do you think?" Serena asked Sherlock, sitting next to her. He seemed unwilling to let go of her hand.

"Of?"

Serena craned her head subtly toward Lestrade and Molly.

"She's better than his wife." Sherlock murmured and Serena smiled.

"This is nice. A family."

"You do know none of us are related."

Serena laughed a little at that and Sherlock looked pleased. "Yes, but we both know blood means nothing. This is what makes a family."

They looked together at the room. Small, a bit crowded, loud, but unified in the strangest of ways.

"It's true." Sherlock said, and Serena leaned her head against him.

"Then I must be right." She said teasingly.

She heard the sound of cheers, and turned around. John was struggling to balance a cake in both hands while Mrs. Hudson hovered to make sure it didn't fall.

"No!" She protested, but she was laughing. John set down the cake in front of her.

"You shouldn't have." She said.

"A celebration without cake? Never!" John said, handing her the knife. She slid it into the cake smoothly, still giggling in spite of herself.

"What are we celebrating?" Serena asked.

"Being released from a hospital day!" John said. From this, Serena gathered he had been drinking as well.

She ate her cake and laughed and smiled and kissed and it was alright.

That night she slept on the couch and didn't have nightmares.

Four days later was Sandy's funeral.

Serena gave the eulogy. She didn't really remember what she said. Something about his bravery. Something about his kindness. She remembered she hadn't cried until the very end, when she saw Michelle's tear-stained face. Then she looked at Sherlock's and he encouraged her to go on. Kayla sat next to him, not crying. Serena was surprised at her courage.

Sherlock hadn't needed to come, but he told her she needed someone there. She hadn't realized how much she needed someone there.

It wasn't an open casket. Serena was one of the last to place a white rose on his grave, leading Kayla with her. Sherlock went up, to her surprise. She couldn't catch what he said, but his eyes were sad when he turned. She went up slowly but steadily, determined to only remember the good things about Sandy. Kayla walked right in front of her, saying so quietly Serena could barely hear her,

"Thank you."

That was it. That was all she said before she walked toward Sherlock.

Serena looked at the smooth wood and rested a hand on it before placing the rose down.

"I'm sorry I couldn't save you, Sandy, but I have hope that you found a better place than here." She whispered before walking back.

It was part of the recovery. Part of the recovery and part of the healing.

They ambushed her at the funeral. The reporters and the cameramen followed her to the street, yelling questions. Serena said nothing, just allowed Sherlock to guide her to their waiting taxi. Serena could barely pick out words from the mess.

"You were held by the serial killer for years. How did you escape?"

"How do you feel seeing him behind bars?"

"Is it true that you and Sherlock Holmes-?"

Sherlock closing the door cut off the rest of the question. He looked at Serena and shrugged.

"You get used to it."

(Sherlock's POV)

Sherlock was thinking at night a lot. Serena practically slept here now, on the couch. She had nightmares some nights, and Sherlock scared them away. He loved that he could do that.

He loved everything about her. He loved how much she cared, how she needed him to take care of her, how he wanted to be able to see her at every second.

He was awake late that night. His head shot up the moment she came in. A second later, his arms were around her.

"It was just a bad dream." He said. It hurt to see her in pain like this. It physically hurt.

Serena shook her head. "This one was worse." She said.

"What did you see?"

She stared up at him as he held her. "You." She whispered.

"Me?"

"I'm forgetting it now, but you were there. You were sad. I don't know why, but you were sad, and then you were gone."

Sherlock held her head against his chest because it seemed like the right thing to do. She wasn't crying, but he could feel her heart pounding.

"I keep telling myself I'm getting better. And some days, I can forget. But most days I can't."

"It's hard to forget pain." Sherlock said. "It's easier to move past it."

"It helps having you here. I'm tired of doing this on my own."

"I am here. And I'm not planning on leaving. Are you?" Sherlock asked, and she shook her head.

"Not any time soon." She said before yawning.

"Get some sleep." Sherlock looked at his bed, and she nodded, too tired to resist like she usually would.

She sat down, and Sherlock began to move out of the room.

"Don't." She said, and he stopped.

Her gaze was right on his. "Stay?" She asked, and after a moment of brief hesitation, he nodded.

He walked to the other side of the room and lay down on the other side of the bed, turning on his side to watch her. She looked at him sleepily.

She was asleep again in minutes, but Sherlock couldn't stop staring at her. She was beautiful when she slept. He never thought he could feel this kind of emotion. But he didn't stop staring. Not until the sky began to lighten and he slipped into sleep.

(Serena's POV)

Serena woke up facing Sherlock, and she smiled. It was funny, how seeing him could make her smile. He looked different when he was sleeping, peaceful. Serena doubted she would ever see him sleeping again. The sunlight hit his face so that his pale skin glowed. It was Sherlock without the bitterness toward a world that had never accepted him. It was that Sherlock Serena wanted to see every minute of every day.

He moved in his sleep, his curly hair hanging low over his forehead, and Serena resisted the urge to brush it out of his eyes. That would definitely wake him up.

She began to stand when something grabbed her wrist. She held back a wince and turned around to see Sherlock staring at her through sleepy eyes.

"Good morning." Serena said, and Sherlock yawned.

"Breakfast?" He asked sleepily.

"I'll make some right now. You can go back to sleep."

Sherlock nodded and slumped back against the pillow. Serena wondered how late he had stayed up protecting her from the monsters in her sleep.

"Good morning." Serena said to John, whose hair was sticking up. He had dark circles under his eyes, but he smiled at her.

"You too. Sherlock?"

"Sleeping."

"Good. Breakfast?"

"I'll make it." Serena said, and John slumped into a chair.

"Why are you so tired?" She asked.

"No clue." John said back, and Serena opened the fridge. It was cleared out of all experiments, and she shot John a questioning look.

"Mrs. Hudson."

"Ah." Serena said in understanding as she began looking for any usable food.

Within a few minutes, she had managed to set the kettle on, begin brewing coffee, and find eggs and sausage.

She set a cup of tea in front of John who nodded.

"How did you know?"

"It's not hard to see how much you enjoy tea."

Serena set the coffee pot on the table and returned to her cooking.

The sausage sizzled on the pan when she dropped them in, and before long the scent of breakfast filled the flat.

Sherlock's head poked out. He had a sheet around his shoulders, trailing behind him.

"Is it ready yet?" He asked.

"Almost. I made coffee." Serena said.

Sherlock came out and plopped into the chair. He still looked half-asleep.

They had just sat down to eat when there was a knock at the door. Mrs. Hudson bustled in a moment later.

"Um, Sherlock, there are some people downstairs." She said.

"People? What people?"

"Um, I think it's the newspapers." She said.

"The question is, who are they here to interview?" John asked.

"It doesn't matter. Mrs. Hudson, tell the reporters that we are enjoying a lovely breakfast and I'll only give them two words. Piss off." Sherlock said and Mrs. Hudson scurried away, leaving that day's newspaper on the table.

Serena smiled. "The next few weeks are going to be exhausting."

"Yeah." John said grimly. He picked up the newspaper and looked at the front page, turning it so Serena and Sherlock could see.

The headline on the front page read: **Mystery Serial Killer Caught!**

Serena snatched the newspaper and kept reading:

_After nearly two months of playing hide-and-seek, the serial killer who targeted psychiatric patients has been caught. The murderer has been identified as Michael Burns, a resident of…_

Serena skipped ahead a couple paragraphs.

_According to Scotland Yard's Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade, Mr. Burns' main target was a woman named Serena Gambles. _

_"Mr. Burns seemed like an ordinary man when I first met him. It seems obvious that Serena Gambles had been held in captivity by him for at least a year, possibly longer."_

_When asked about Serena Gambles and his involvement in her identity change, however, DI Lestrade declined comment. _

_Sources in Scotland Yard have said that DI Lestrade was the one to give Ms. Gambles her new identity and that they were old family friends._

_After a month of failing to catch Mr. Burns, Scotland Yard was forced to call amateur detective Sherlock Holmes to the rescue. Even with his help, it was another three weeks before the team finally threw Mr. Burns behind bars._

_Mr. Holmes was unavailable for comment, as was Ms. Gambles, though rumors are spreading that Ms. Gambles will testify at Mr. Burns' trial, set for two weeks from tomorrow. It is unknown whether she will be answering questions at that time, though many details may be cleared up._

John handed Serena a tabloid next as she passed the newspaper to Sherlock. When she saw the headline, she groaned slightly. John was holding in a laugh.

**A New Case Solved: A New Romance With It?**

"That is a terrible headline." Serena said.

"Just read." John was laughing a bit now.

_Our local "consulting detective", as he likes to call himself, is back at it again! With speed Scotland Yard can't match, he managed to bag another criminal, this one a serial killer who targeted patients of a Ms. Serena Gambles._

_Ms. Serena Gambles notified Sherlock Holmes herself of the danger. She was with the investigation every step of the way. But was she along for the ride, or is there something deeper?_

_Eyewitnesses claim that Serena Gambles spent large amounts of time at the Holmes residence._

_"She was in there day and night." One said._

_Sherlock Holmes has always seemed stone-cold and uninterested. But is it possible that the beautiful and available Serena Gambles finally cracked his hard exterior?_

"They're making me sound like a prostitute." Serena grumbled.

_Sources report that the two have become very close over the past few weeks. Sherlock Holmes even made an appearance at the funeral of a close friend of Serena's._

_Serena Gambles was engaged to the very serial killer who tried to murder her. This news-_

"Where the hell did they hear that?" Serena asked.

-_tells some that Serena may not have the best taste in men. Some are going so far to tell her to get out of the relationship she may or may not be in now!_

_"Sherlock Holmes has always seemed cold and heartless to me. I don't know what she sees in him."_

_"I know some women find the loner-type attractive, but honey, listen to one who knows, it never works out."_

_"Someone needs to sit that girl down and tell her to find a nice, secure man who will take care of her."_

Serena finally had heard enough. She stood up and stalked to the trashcan, her blood rushing to her head.

"Those awful, moronic people can not tell me who I will and will not be with!" She said, each word punctuated by the sound of tearing paper. She tossed the pieces into the trashcan and sat back at the table.

John and Sherlock were looking at her.

"What? What!" She demanded before rubbing her temples.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry." She muttered and she felt someone pull her toward them.

She leaned against Sherlock, grateful for his steadiness.

"What did it say?" He asked.

"It's not important." She shook her head, closing her eyes and breathing in. He always smelled of mint to her. It helped calm her.

"But if they keep bothering us, I'll have a bit more to say than piss off." She added, and she saw John smile as he picked up the newspaper again.


	27. Trials

**Hello, next chapter. Sorry if this one is all over the place and doesn't make sense, it's mostly filler. Like completely filler. It kinda shows how I think Sherlock would react in an actual relationship.**

**Hope you enjoy it anyway. Please review!**

(Sherlock's POV)

Two weeks of relative peace. It was odd. Sherlock normally didn't like peace. He didn't enjoy it. Peace was boring.

But when he was with Serena, everything was better. Nothing seemed boring.

It would be wrong to say that scared him, but it did. He was terrified and giddy and worried he was messing everything up all at once, and he was still trying to figure out how that could possibly be.

He needed Serena like he used to need nicotine. He may be terrified, but he wanted to see her every minute of every day.

He hated that scared feeling he got, like he was plummeting. Sherlock Holmes was in control. Always.

He was pretending to be okay. He felt very not okay, but he hid it so he didn't worry her.

It was the day of the trial when he finally stopped pretending.

"What time does the trial start?" Serena asked.

"Nine." John said, casting a glance at Sherlock.

Serena swore and retreated into Sherlock's bedroom. She came out wearing unusually conservative clothing, her hair in a bun on top of her head.

"Prissy enough for court yet?" She asked him, and he barely looked at her.

"Hey." She looked at him. "What's up?"

"Oh nothing."

"Aren't you going to get dressed?" Serena asked. He met her eyes, and there it was, that plummeting feeling. At that moment, he'd had enough.

"No."

"Why not? We have to leave in ten minutes."

Sherlock took a breath and met her eyes straight on. "I'm not going." He said.

Serena didn't seem to get it at first. Slowly, her eyes widened in understanding.

"Oh." She said, and she turned.

"It's-"

"Let me stop you right there." Serena said, and Sherlock saw her breath coming faster.

"The last two weeks have been perfect. I don't understand." She said.

"Neither do I. And I dislike it. I'm tired of feeling like I don't have any control over my emotions."

"So you remove the person causing that." Serena said, and Sherlock caught his breath.

"I get it." Her voice held no emotion. "I understand fear, Sherlock. I don't want to hurt you." Her voice shook a bit when she said that. "I really don't. I'd leave if you wanted. I'd do that for you."

"I don't want you to leave." Sherlock said, and Serena looked at him. Her eyes were dry but shattered, like a bullet hole in a pane of glass.

"I'm going to be completely honest with you, because good things seem to happen when I do that. I like you a lot, enough that it would break me if I left. But I would. I would for you."

John was watching silently, trying to pretend like he wasn't listening.

"I don't want to hurt you either." Sherlock said.

"Make up your mind!" Serena said, her voice rising sharply. "Because it's killing me, Sherlock. Every night you're there, watching over me, guarding me, and I love that about you. I think you are a beautiful human being. I was so sure you cared about me and I'm not going anywhere if I have that option. I know it's terrifying, but that's part of life! It's part of being human."

Sherlock looked down at his twisting hands then. He felt himself being torn in two.

"I have to go testify against my ex-lover now." Serena said. "I guess I'm going to do it without you."

Serena left, followed by John. Sherlock sat on the couch, alone with his thoughts. His thoughts, once so comforting, were empty. He was so desperately lonely.

And scared.

Sherlock was turning into a coward. He could run into a gunfight with a twinge of doubt, but when it came to Serena, he never knew what to do.

She had said the last two weeks had been perfect. He had thought he was doing everything wrong, but she had said they were perfect.

No one had ever wanted him the way she wanted him. No one had ever been willing to give up so much for him.

"I'm going to be completely honest." He said to the empty room. "That was one of the most idiotic things I have ever done."

He would rather be scared of being with Serena then be scared of never having her.

He looked at the clock. The trial would almost be in recess for the day. He had spent over six hours thinking.

He went to his bedroom to get dressed.

(Serena's POV)

The trial was slow. Lestrade had to testify before Serena. She wasn't paying attention. She was thinking about Sherlock.

She probably should've guessed something would go wrong. It was all too perfect. She'd had two weeks of recovery before the world dumped her on her back again.

She didn't think they would last forever. She had hoped longer than a few weeks, but she would take what she had gotten and cherish it.

"I'd like to call the next witness to the stand." The prosecutor said, and Serena stood up, moving blindly to where she had to stand. She tried not to look at Michael, his hands cuffed. Instead, she looked across to John, who nodded at her. His eyes told her to be strong, and Serena steeled herself.

"What is your name?"

"Serena Gambles."

"And the nature of your relationship with the prosecuted?"

"Ex-fiancée."

There were a few murmurs at that, but Serena ignored them, choosing to look into the iron gray eyes of the prosecutor instead.

"When did you two first meet?"

"Four years ago, give or take."

"And what happened during those four years?"

"Life." Serena said before shaking her head. "Sorry. Well, I met him, we started dating, my parents disowned me, he proposed, and then he trapped me."

"Trapped you? In what way?" The man asked, and Serena looked at the judge.

"Is this necessary? No offense to the prosecution, but aren't we supposed to be trying him for murder?" She asked him.

"Fair point. You will keep your questions directed at the murder." The judge said. The prosecutor nodded.

"Very well. Moving forward in time. Is it true you asked DI Lestrade to change your identity to Amanda Gambles?"

"Yes."

"And when the murders began, did you suspect it was Mr. Burns?"

"No."

"When did you realize?"

"When Mr. Holmes," Serena cleared her throat, "when Mr. Holmes told me that there was no connection between the victims and the killer besides me. Then I figured out the pattern with the street names and I knew it was him."

The prosecutor nodded. "Describe for the court your experiences when Mr. Burns captured you."

"He came to my flat and threatened to kill my friends unless I came with him willingly."

"How could he have killed your friends?"

"He told me that he had a partner, someone who sponsored him, so to speak."

"Did you ever learn the name of this sponsor?"

"No."

"Continue."

"I went with him to St. Bart's hospital where he proceeded to handcuff me and lock me in one of the rooms in the morgue. He knew I had cleithrophobia. He left a loaded gun in the room so I could commit suicide. After a couple hours, I'm not sure, Scotland Yard arrived along with Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. They went to secure the building. Mr. Burns snuck up behind Mr. Holmes. He was about to kill him. So I shot him in the leg."

The prosecutor nodded. "Do you believe it was always Mr. Burns' intent to kill you?"

Serena paused briefly before looking at Michael. He was staring at her through narrowed eyes.

"Yes." Serena said. "I do believe it was always his intention, after killing the majority of the people I cared about, to kill me."

The prosecutor nodded. "Thank you."

Serena felt herself look up at John again, almost as if she was searching for someone who wasn't there.

After the trial, John didn't say a word, and Serena was grateful for that. As they walked down the steps, he took Serena's arm. A crowd of reporters waited on the bottom steps.

"Ms. Gambles, do you have time for an interview?"

"Can you answer a few questions?"

"What are your plans for recovery?"

"How are you coping with the return of Mr. Burns?"

"What is the nature of your relationship with Sherlock Holmes?"

At that question, Serena paused in her walking and looked at them.

"If you want a statement, listen closely, because this is the only one you will ever get." She said, and she saw every head stare at her intently. The microphones and tape recorders were all in her face.

"It is a blessing that Mr. Burns is finally being put behind bars. It is thanks to DI Lestrade and Sherlock Holmes that he is being put where he belongs, and I want to thank them for everything." She said before continuing on. The reporters kept yelling questions, but Serena and John ignored them.

They finally reached the street. Serena looked down the sidewalk and saw him.

He was running, his coat billowing out behind him. Serena looked for a way to warn him that there were a dozen reporters behind her, all looking for any tidbit to give to their editors.

"Hello." He said, panting. "Did I miss the trial?"

"Yeah." Serena said coldly.

"Sorry about that." Sherlock said, and Serena shook her head.

"We should go. Do this somewhere else." She said, and Sherlock looked at the reporters.

"I think we should give them something." He said, and Serena half-smiled.

"You're confusing me again." She said.

"I'm confused every minute of every day when I'm with you." He said. "But I'm not going to lose this. I've made the decision that I won't be one of those people who only know how much they care once they lose the person they care about."

Serena nodded, and he held out a hand. She took it tentatively before giving him a hug.

"I just need to know I won't wake up one morning and you'll feel differently."

"I was scared. I'm not used to that feeling of doubting yourself. But if you're willing to walk away, I'm willing to try."

Serena smiled. She felt her heart lighten and she let him go. He looked at her with a spark in his eyes.

"Do you mind if you do this somewhere else?" John asked, and Serena shrugged.

"I think we've given the press enough for now." She said, and her and Sherlock went walking down the street, her palm pressed tightly against his.


	28. Toby

**Hey there guys. Sorry for the slight wait, I had a bit of a block. So, this was an exciting chapter for me. I'm gearing up for Reichenbach, which will take up the next two chapters after this one. Prepare yourself for feels! I'll probably cry while writing it, actually. Anyway, I've been rewatching the series so I can do a fantastic job on Reichenbach. Since one of my readers asked me if I had a plan for the story, here it is:**

**Reichenbach part 1, reichenbach part 2, sherlock's funeral, an interview, and the aftermath/space between Sherlock's death and his rearrival. **

**Please enjoy the last not completely angst-y chapter.**

**I kid, this one is pretty angst-y.**

The next couple weeks went by in a second. So many cases, so little time, Sherlock would say.

A second of infinity, maybe. Serena could feel herself slipping down those two weeks. The best thing about falling was half the time you didn't know until you hit the ground running.

She supposed she hit the ground when Toby came around.

The day after Michael's trial, Sherlock was presented with a case. Murder. Serena had a sneaking suspicion Sherlock knew who the killer was from the moment he got the call. He was excited, Serena could tell. She couldn't feel the same adrenaline rush he did at the news of a murder, but she came along anyway.

"What have we got?" Sherlock asked as they stepped onto the crime scene.

"I don't want him here!" Anderson protested. "Or his girlfriend, for that matter."

"I think I'm the boss last time I checked, Anderson, thank you." Lestrade said loudly before holding up the tape. Anderson ducked back inside as Sherlock stepped under it and immediately was accosted.

He stumbled backwards into Serena, who sidestepped. A large dog was whirling in circles around Sherlock's feet, barking rapidly. Serena saw a man jogging toward them, and noticed the dog's trailing leash. She grabbed the end and tugged the dog toward her.

"Shh, boy, it's okay. Calm down." She said soothingly, holding onto the leash tightly. The dog whimpered and she squatted next to it.

"Why on earth do you have a dog at a crime scene?" John asked, squatting besides it and running his hand along it's frame.

"He belonged to the victim. We have a man from the animal shelter here, but he was having some trouble getting him under control."

"He's under control now." Serena said, and the dog licked her hand before she could pull back. It was a beautiful German Shepard, young, his deep brown eyes staring at Serena.

In a second, the dog pulled from Serena's grip and dashed back to Sherlock, panting up at him.

"The dog likes you more than me. I see how it is." Serena said as she stood.

"Where is the victim?" Sherlock asked.

"Inside." Lestrade began walking toward the front door, and Sherlock followed. The dog trailed after him.

Sherlock turned around and stared at the dog fiercely. "Stop following me. It's putting me off."

The dog sat and cocked its head. Sherlock's face softened, and Serena held back a laugh at his begging expression.

"Oh, alright. Serena, could you at least hold onto it?" He said resignedly.

Serena took up the leash again and followed Sherlock and John inside.

"No. No, no, no! I will not have some mangy animal ruining my crime scene!" Anderson said as Serena walked in. To her surprise, the dog growled at Anderson, who took a step back.

"That mangy animal is smarter than you Anderson. What does that make you, a goldfish?" Sherlock said as he walked over to the limp body on the bed.

"Christopher Tanner, age 46. Died of a bullet to the head. No gun."

"Oh, too simple." Sherlock said.

"Sorry?"

"It's too simple! The dog could figure this out. Serena, come here."

Serena handed the leash to Lestrade and strode over to Sherlock.

"Who killed him?"

"Just like that. You want me to figure it out."

"Oh, it's easy. I knew the moment I walked in."

Serena looked at the body carefully.

"Murder."

"Yes."

"By a missing gun. No forced entry suggests it was someone he knew." Serena looked around the room.

"I don't think he lives alone. The décor suggests he had a partner, female, his age. He has a very faint tan line on his finger from a wedding ring, but he isn't wearing it. So he either took it off or the murderer took it."

"Good. And?"

"If the murderer took it, the murderer was either his wife or the woman he was having an affair with."

"Excellent!" Sherlock sounded very excited. Serena half-blushed.

"See, Lestrade? Simple. Now go catch a murderer."

"That'll have to wait." Lestrade said.

"Wait? Why?" Sherlock's face fell.

"Robbery at the National Gallery."

"How could someone get in there?" Serena asked.

"They only stole one thing. A painting of the Reichenbach Falls."

Sherlock nodded, and away they went again, the dog following faithfully.

"I want Serena here, investigating the murder." Sherlock said to Lestrade.

"Alright."

Serena sighed. "I get the boring one."

"Keep in touch, alright?" Sherlock said to her, and she smiled.

"Of course. Tell me if you find anything." She said, and he nodded, turning away. The dog strained after him for a second, and a man walked up to Serena.

"I can take him, miss." He said.

"Are you from the shelter?"

"Yes, I am. Going to have a ton of paperwork to do when I get back."

Serena smiled. "Tell you what…?"

"Dave."

"Dave, I can spare you the paperwork."

"That would be lovely."

"I'll take him."

Dave's eyebrows knit together. "I dunno."

"Come on. I'm adopting him. Or you could go to the shelter and do all that paperwork, and I'll come by later and get him."

Dave shook his head. "Have it your way."

Serena grinned. "Thanks. I should probably get back inside."

Dave began to walk away.

"Oh, what's his name?" Serena called out.

"Toby!" He called back, and Serena grinned. She felt as light as air.

"Hey there, Toby." She said to him. He seemed to grin back.

Serena went with the Sergeant to Scotland Yard, where the wife was waiting.

She watched as the sergeant tried to question her to no use.

"Can I have a go?" She asked Donovan, who sighed.

"Be my guest."

Serena walked inside slowly, looking at the well-dressed woman with bags under her eyes.

"Hey." She said, and the woman heaved a sigh.

"Look, you can question me all you like, I am not answering any questions."

"I'm not here to ask you questions. I just want to talk. What were you doing last night?"

"I was at my place, watching telly."

"So no one was around?" Serena said, and she saw the woman's lips purse. "You don't seem terribly upset over this tragedy."

"It's not a tragedy. My husband and I separated two weeks ago. I have my own place now."

"How interesting." Serena said pleasantly. "You were aware, then, that your husband had an affair."

The woman scowled. "Of course I was. Why do you think I left?"

"But you didn't leave him, did you? He left you." Serena said.

"You dare…!"

"Yes, I do, because a man has been murdered and I know you did it!" Serena hissed.

"You have no proof!"

"You don't have an alibi and you have motive. We have enough to get a search warrant to look for the gun." Serena said.

"Go right ahead." The woman said vindictively, and Serena smiled.

"Thank you for your time." She said, and she walked out of the room.

"She did it." She told Donovan.

"How do you know?"

"She wants me to be proven wrong too badly. The gun will be well-hidden, somewhere she thinks no one will look." Serena told her.

"We'll check it out." Donovan said. "Will you come?"

"Of course." Serena said with a half-smirk.

(Sherlock's POV)

Museums were dreadfully boring, even if he was solving the mystery of a missing painting.

It beat the boring one Serena was on. They had known who it was immediately, when no one else had gotten there yet. They were traveling along miles in front of everyone else, sprinting along. He hadn't connected with someone on that level in a long time.

"Sherlock!" John snapped Sherlock's attention to the present.

"Yes, the painting. Right." Sherlock looked around the supposed crime scene.

"Security?"

"Guards on a constant loop, every door and window bolted shut-" Lestrade said.

"So an inside job. Excellent!" Sherlock spun on his heel. "Are there any guards missing?" He asked the person wearing the tie. He assumed he worked for the museum.

"Um, one. Christopher Tanner."

Sherlock grinned.

"Isn't that the-" John began to say.

"Man who was murdered? Oh yes indeed." Sherlock walked away from the crime scene, pulling out his phone as he did so.

(Serena's POV)

Serena had just gotten to the woman's flat when her phone buzzed in her pocket.

**Christopher Tanner stole the painting. –SH**

She smiled as she replied.

**Over at the ex-wife's now. Looking for proof she killed him as if we needed it. **

**I'm heading over to Tanner's to search for the painting. –SH**

Serena slipped the phone back into her pocket as Donovan unlocked the door.

She looked around the spotless flat.

"Alright, check anywhere not obvious." She called out to the forensics moving around the flat like a swarm.

She moved into the kitchen, looking for anything out of place. Everything seemed perfect, all organized. Serena found herself hating it, longing for the constant, relaxed messiness of Sherlock's flat. Even her own seemed unappetizing.

"I found it. Hidden inside a towel in the bathroom." A man called out, and Serena headed over. He held a handgun in his gloved hands.

"That's the right model." Donovan said triumphantly. "We can run ballistics on it back at the office."

Serena took one last glance around the kitchen and noticed something else odd.

"Hold up." She walked over to the sink. The cabinet underneath was the slightest bit ajar. She opened it to reveal a wrapped square object. She pulled it out gingerly, and the wrappings fell away.

"Brilliant." Donovan said as Serena stared at the missing painting of Reichenbach Falls.

(Sherlock's POV)

**Found the painting at the wife's. Meet back at Scotland Yard?**

Sherlock grinned again. "Come on. They've found the painting."

"Where?" John asked.

"The wife's."

"I don't understand. The wife's?" Lestrade said.

"She comes over, intending to kill her ex. Probably had a few drinks. She pulled the gun and shot him. On her way out, she noticed the painting. Thought it was pretty, so she took it. Simple domestic turned deadly." Sherlock explained quickly.

"She wanted to kill him. Why?" John asked.

"Oh, the usual. Affair, broken marriage. He was doing well while she was falling apart. Whole revenge nonsense."

"Two birds with one stone. Not bad for one day." Lestrade said with a half-smile. Sherlock smiled for the hundredth time. He had a warm feeling in his stomach, something he didn't experience often.

(Serena's POV)

Serena held onto Toby's leash tightly as Sherlock got out of the car. He began barking, straining to get to him immediately.

"Don't tell me you kept the dog?" Sherlock said.

"Of course I kept the dog." Serena threaded her hand through Sherlock's as he looked at the dog. "He was going to the shelter. I couldn't just let them take him away."

Sherlock sighed. "Mrs. Hudson is a cat person."

"Well, I don't technically live at your flat, do I?" Serena said with a smirk.

"In our flat though?"

"Come on. It's not as if your flat is impeccable."

"Does the dog have a name?"

"Toby."

"My brother's old cat's name. Isn't that just excellent?" He said sarcastically.

Sherlock didn't look convinced, so Serena pressed her weight into him slightly. "He could be useful. He's intelligent. He could help you with cases." She said coaxingly.

Sherlock sighed. "Fine."

John walked toward her. "Serena, you kept the dog?"

Serena laughed as they walked toward the taxi.

Toby led the way up to 221B, bounding up the stairs. Serena and Sherlock followed, with John right behind.

They had only just sat down when Mrs. Hudson came up the stairs.

"Sherlock? There's a woman here, says she needs to talk to your girlfriend."

Serena expected Sherlock to say something along the lines of, 'she's not my girlfriend', but all he said was, "If it's a reporter, tell her to go away."

Mrs. Hudson gasped. "You have a dog now, do you? I'm adding that to your rent, you know! I don't think this woman is a reporter, Sherlock. She says her name is Debra."

Serena froze, her hand tightening in Sherlock's. He shot her a glance.

"Mrs. Hudson, tell her that I want nothing to do with her." She said coldly.

"Oh, alright." Mrs. Hudson turned and left, and Serena watched her leave, her body stiff as a board.

"Who was it?" Sherlock said.

"Someone important." Serena said as she heard the sound of an all too familiar voice coming up the stairs. She stood up, pulling Sherlock up behind her.

"I have a right to my own daughter. Get out of my way!"

Serena felt her own heart steel even as John straightened up in his seat and a woman came through the doorway. She straightened when she saw Serena and Sherlock.

"Hello, mother." Serena said coldly. "I suppose it's high time for a family reunion."

Her mother stared at her with wide eyes before they landed on Serena's fingers intertwined with Sherlock's.

"Get the hell away from my daughter, you freak!" She spat, and Sherlock loosened his grip.

"Don't you dare!" Serena said angrily to her mother, refusing to let Sherlock go. "Don't you dare speak to him like that! How dare you! Coming in here like you still care about me, like my life still matters. Please, _Debra._ If you cared you would've come for me long ago."

Debra took a step back. "I still care. I came of my own accord! I didn't have to, you know. I came because I heard about you and him." The look she gave Sherlock made Serena hurt for him.

"And when it was me and Michael?" Serena asked. "You didn't come for me then, did you?"

"I warned you!" Debra shouted.

"And then you abandoned me!" Serena shouted back, tears springing to her eyes. "Four years, mom! I haven't seen you for four years! It's too late! I can't forgive you. I can't!"

"I'm your mother! You would give me up for some man you only met a month ago!"

Serena stopped, and looked back at Sherlock. He looked shocked at their rapid exchange of words.

"Yeah." She said quietly, mostly to him. "Yeah, I would."

Debra laughed. "Please! You can't honestly tell me you love him!"

Serena stared down her mother. "Yeah, I can. Because I do."

Her mother looked shocked, and Serena looked back at Sherlock. He looked even more shocked now, and his hand was pulling out of hers.

"I won't take it back." She whispered.

"And when he leaves you? When he dumps you in the street and you have nowhere to go? Who will you turn to then?" Her mother said triumphantly, and for the first time, Serena felt herself falter.

She took a deep breath. "Well, I sure as hell won't go to you."

Debra's face was red with anger at this point and she stalked to the door.

"I cannot believe the daughter I raised would abandon her family for a psychopath." She said with venom coating each word.

"You may have raised me, but you didn't make me. You may be my flesh and blood, but you aren't my family." Serena said. "Goodbye, Debra."

Debra turned on her heel and left the doorway. Some impulsive decision made Serena stalk after her.

"And for your information, he isn't a psychopath! Do your research!" She shouted down the stairs before turning around.

She looked up at Sherlock with curiosity and fear. Legitimate fear. Fear that made her feel hollow and angry at the same time.

Sherlock was speechless. She could tell. He stared at her with a strange look in his eyes.

"I meant every word." She said so quietly she could barely hear herself as she walked closer to him so she stood only inches away.

"I know." He said, and his mouth smashed against hers. His hands pulled her in closer to him, and she wrapped her hands into his hands.

John coughed loudly from behind, and they broke apart.

"Do you mind waiting until I'm not in the room?" He said only half-crossly.


	29. Taken

**I am so sorry this took me so long, but I had to use the actual words and everything, so it took forever. I decided to cut Reichenbach into two chapters because this one is like over 7,000 words already. Plus, I can only take so much heartbreak.**

**So sorry again, and enjoy.**

The Reichenbach Falls case made Sherlock famous. It also happened to throw Serena and John in the spotlight quite a lot. Serena was scrutinized from every angle; every bit of her picked at and looked over. She didn't mind though, because in every bad photograph, in every article, Sherlock was by her side.

Serena had managed to do something useful during that period. She had begun training Toby, using Lestrade's advice on training police dogs. It had gotten to a point where Sherlock would compliment the dog's intelligence.

Toby liked Serena, but he loved Sherlock, who complained about the dog on a daily basis. After just a couple days, Serena caught Sherlock thinking with one hand absentmindedly stroking Toby's fur. The sight made her smile.

There were quite a few cases over those couple of weeks. And after every one, Sherlock was thanked, in some way or another.

"Falls of the Reichenbach, Turner's masterpiece, thankfully recovered owing to the prodigious talent of Mr. Sherlock Holmes." The museum director said proudly, and the crowd, patrons probably, applauded. Serena smiled blandly at them as the photographers clicked away.

"A small token of our gratitude." The director handed Sherlock a small wrapped gift, and he shook it.

"Diamond cufflinks. All my cuffs have buttons." He said, and Serena nudged him with her elbow. He looked at her with an expression of 'what did I say this time'.

"He means thank you." John said quickly to the nonplussed director.

"Do I?" Sherlock asked and in spite of herself, Serena smiled.

"Sherlock." Serena said warningly.

"Thank you." Sherlock said to the director. The man looked away, and Sherlock rolled his eyes slightly before beginning to stride off.

"Hey." John caught his elbow, and glanced at the waiting cameramen and reporters. Sherlock sighed, and Serena put on her bland smile again. Sherlock's hand slipped into hers naturally, and she gave it a squeeze.

Things just got crazier from there.

"Back together with my family after my terrifying ordeal; and we have one person to thank for my deliverance: Sherlock Holmes." The man who spoke like a politician said to the reporters.

It hadn't exactly been hard to find the kidnapped banker. He'd been gone for all of two days.

The grinning boy passed Serena a small box, and she handed it to Sherlock, who looked it over.

"Tie pin. I don't wear ties." He hissed to John.

"Shh!"

And again, a few days later, Sherlock's rise to fame jumped again.

"Peter Ricoletti: number one on Interpol's Most Wanted list since nineteen eighty-two. But we got him; and there's one person we have to thank for giving us the decisive leads" Lestrade said, looking toward Sherlock. Serena had gotten used to the press by now and was standing comfortably.

"…with all his customary diplomacy and tact." Lestrade continued, just a tinge of laughter in his tone.

"Sarcasm." John told Sherlock.

"Yes."

"We all chipped in." Lestrade handed Sherlock a floppy package, which Sherlock ripped open.

"Oh!" Sherlock said, pretending to like the deerstalker that emerged. Serena exchanged a glance with Lestrade and they both laughed silently.

"Put the hat on!"

"Yeah, put the hat on!" The reporters were all clamoring at this point. Sherlock looked like he'd rather jump off a building.

"Yeah, Sherlock, put it on!" Lestrade said innocently, and Serena erupted in giggles again.

"Just put it on and we can leave." She told Sherlock, and he stared at her for a moment before pulling the hat over his dark curls.

That same day, they returned to 221B Baker St, Sherlock in a bad mood and Serena and John laughing over the hat.

"Boffin. Boffin Sherlock Holmes." Sherlock said, tossing the Daily Star onto the coffee table. Toby trotted over and pushed against Sherlock's legs. Serena clicked her tongue, and he came towards her. She began petting his head as he begged for attention.

"Come again?" Serena asked before looking at the front page.

"Everybody gets one." John said.

"One what?" Sherlock asked.

"Tabloid nickname: 'SuBo'; 'Nasty Nick'. Shouldn't worry. I'll probably get one soon."

"Page five, column six, first sentence." Sherlock said, and John picked up the newspaper, flipping the pages.

"Why is it always the hat photograph?" Sherlock asked.

"Bachelor John Watson?"

"What sort of hat is it anyway?"

"Mine is usually either 'ex-fiancée of serial killer' or 'consort." Serena told John, who was focusing solely on the newspaper.

"Bachelor? What the hell are they implying?"

"Consort, John, _consort._"

"Is it a cap? Why has it got two fronts?"

"It's a deerstalker. Frequently seen in the company of bachelor John Watson"

"Ex-fiancée of serial killer." Serena pointed to the page before crouching over it. "What the hell?"

"You stalk a deer with a hat? What are you gonna do, throw it?"

"... _confirmed_ bachelor John Watson!"

"…ex-fiancée of serial killer Michael Burns has gone one step up to boffin Sherlock Holmes and bachelor John Watson. What, so I'm with both of you now?"

"No, because I am a _bachelor_!"

"Some sort of death frisbee?"

"Okay, this is too much. We need to be more careful." John said.

"It's got flaps...ear flaps. It's an _ear_ hat, John." Sherlock said, spinning the hat toward John. Toby leapt up and caught it in his mouth.

"At least it's a good dog toy!" Sherlock exclaimed as Toby carried the hat back to him, waiting expectantly.

"What do you mean, more careful?"

"I mean this isn't a deerstalker now; it's a Sherlock Holmes hat. I mean that you're not exactly a _private_ detective any more. You're this far from famous." John held up two fingers an inch apart.

"Oh, it'll pass." Sherlock said.

"It'd better pass. The press will turn, Sherlock. They always turn, and they'll turn on you." John said.

Sherlock stared at John with wide eyes.

"It really bothers you."

"What?"

"What people say."

"Yes."

"About me? I don't understand, why would it upset you?"

"Just try to keep a low profile. Find yourself a little case this week. Stay out of the news." John said, and Serena moved toward Sherlock.

"Friendship." She murmured to him.

"Do you care?" He asked.

"Always. I always care what they say about you."

"Why?"

"I don't want people thinking you aren't who you appear to be."

"And who is that?"

Serena smiled. "My brave, brutally honest, brilliant consulting detective." She said as she pulled him in for a light kiss, standing on tiptoe.

"Now, I'm going to shower." She said, heading for the bathroom. "And no, you cannot barge in again."

When she came out, hair dripping down her back, Sherlock was doing an experiment and John was reading. Serena sat down across from Sherlock and rested her head on her folded arms. She heard the ding of a text and heard John moving.

"I'll get it, shall I?" He said.

There was a long pause, oddly long, and Serena raised her head. John's face was grave, half-shocked.

"Here." He held the phone out to Sherlock.

"John? What's wrong?" Serena asked, standing up.

"Sherlock." John said, telling Serena with his expression that he'd tell her later.

"Not now, I'm busy." Sherlock said.

"Sherlock..."

"Not now."

John took a deep breath, and Serena realized something. He was afraid.

"He's back."

(Sherlock's POV)

They got in the taxi as fast as they could.

"Tower of London." Sherlock said,

"Who's back?" Serena asked.

"The consulting criminal." Sherlock answered. He had a peculiar feeling in his stomach. Anticipation, yes, but his stomach was tying itself into knots.

"James Moriarty. Uses his talents to manipulate the criminal class. Genius." He said.

"He's the one who-"

"Drew Michael to you, yes." John said, and Serena's hands tightened around each other.

They pulled up to several police cars surrounding the building, all with flashing lights. Lestrade and Sergeant Donovan stood watching as an officer pushed a smirking James Moriarty, handcuffed, into a car.

He was smirking because this was what he wanted. Sherlock knew that as a sure fact.

They headed inside to watch the security footage.

"If this guy is such a genius, how come you guys caught him?" Serena asked before looking at Lestrade guiltily. "Sorry."

"No, you're right." Lestrade said.

"That is a good question. He could've gotten away easily enough." Sherlock said as they entered the security room.

Lestrade pulled up the footage and hit play.

They watched as the glass shattered when Moriarty hit it.

"That glass is tougher than anything." Lestrade said.

"Not tougher than crystallized carbon. He used a diamond." Sherlock said slowly, and Lestrade rewound the tape.

As they watched, the glass reformed and two words became apparent.

"Get Sherlock." Serena said, her voice hard. "Why would he write that?"

"Pulling me in. He wants to play a game." Sherlock said, and Serena grimaced.

"I don't like playing games with criminals."

"Why not?"

"Because they are usually fatal."

(Serena's POV)

An entire six weeks later, life hadn't changed. Serena kept training Toby, taking care of the flat, falling deeper in love with Sherlock, and waiting for a trial of the century.

The day of, she was just buttoning her blazer when John came from his bedroom fixing his tie. Sherlock was ready to go already. They walked down the stairs as one group.

"Ready?" John asked them. Serena nodded, clasping Sherlock's hand.

"Yes." Sherlock said, and John pushed open the door.

They waded out into the crowd, several officers holding back the crowd. Serena shielded her face from the yells and flashes as they fought their way to the waiting car.

Serena slid inside as quickly as possible, Sherlock following, and they took off.

"Remember-" John began to say.

"Yes." Sherlock said.

"Remember-"

"Yes."

John sighed before saying quickly. "Remember what they told you: don't try to be clever-"

"No."

John rolled his eyes, and Serena smiled. "-and _please_, just keep it simple and brief."

"God forbid the star witness at the trial should come across as intelligent." Sherlock said.

"Intelligent, fine. Let's give smart-arse a wide berth."

There was a pause as Serena bit her lip to try not to laugh.

"I'll just be myself."

"Are you listening to me!"

(Sherlock's POV)

He was in the bathroom before the trial, just washing up. He knew something wouldn't go right in the trial. Moriarty would go free, he was sure of it.

He half-wanted him to.

But on the other hand, if he went to prison, Sherlock wouldn't have to worry about John and Serena's safety. And he did worry.

But since Moriarty likely would walk free, Sherlock wasn't too fussed about being polite.

"Crown versus Moriarty – please proceed to Court Ten." The speaker announced. Sherlock heard soft footsteps behind him before the sound of a heavy bag hitting the floor made him turn around.

"You're him." The ginger woman said, and Sherlock noticed the I Love Sherlock pin she wore.

"Wrong toilet."

"I'm a _big_ fan." She said, her eyes wide.

Sherlock looked over her deerstalker, costume, and magnifying glass pin. He knew it wasn't real, but he'd play along for the time being. "Evidently."

"I read your cases; follow them all." She pulled aside her blazer. "Sign my shirt, would you?" She held out a pen, but Sherlock didn't take it.

"There are two types of fans." He said.

"Oh?"

"Catch me before I kill again; Type A."

"Uh-huh. What's Type B?"

"Your bedroom's just a taxi ride away."

The woman grinned. "Guess which one I am."

"Neither."

The woman blinked nervously. "Really?"

"No. You're not a fan at all. Those marks on your forearm: edge of a desk. You've been typing in a hurry, probably. Pressure on, facing a deadline."

"That all?"

"And there's a smudge of ink on your wrist; and bulge in your left jacket pocket."

"Bit of a giveaway."

"The smudge is deliberate, to see if I'm as good as they say I am. Hmm. Oil-based; used in newspaper print, but drawn on with an index finger; _your_ finger."

"Hmm!" The woman looked pleased

"Journalist. Unlikely you'd get your hands dirty at the press. You put that there to test me."

"Wow, I'm liking you."

"You mean I'd make a great feature: Sherlock Holmes – the man beneath the hat." Sherlock was liking her less and less.

"Kitty Riley. Pleased to meet you." Kitty Riley took off the ridiculous hat and balled it up.

"No. I'm just saving you the trouble of asking. No, I won't give you an interview, no, I don't want the money." Sherlock pushed past her in disgust.

"Any details about your relationship with Serena Gambles?" Kitty asked, slipping in front of him. He let out a hiss of annoyance.

"There are all sorts of gossip in the press about you. Sooner or later you're gonna need someone on your side, someone to set the record straight." Kitty said, holding out a business card.

"And you think you're the girl for that job, do you?"

"I'm smart, and you can trust me, totally."

"Smart, okay: investigative journalist. Good. Well, look at me and tell me what you see. If you're that skillful, you don't need an interview. You can just _read_ what you need."

Kitty just looked at him blankly, and he felt a stab of satisfaction.

"No? Okay, my turn." Sherlock looked her up and down once.

"I look at you and I see someone who's still waiting for their first big scoop so that their editor will notice them. You're wearing an expensive skirt but it's been re-hemmed twice; only posh skirt you've got. And your nails: you can't afford to do them that often. I see someone who's hungry. I don't see smart, and I definitely don't see trustworthy, but I'll give you a quote if you like, three little words."

He grabbed her recorder and held it to his lips. "You. Repel. Me."

He brushed past her out of the bathroom.

(Serena's POV)

"A 'consulting criminal'." The prosecutor said to Sherlock, on the witness stand. Serena watched intently.

"Yes." Sherlock answered.

"Your words. Can you expand on that answer?" The prosecutor asked.

"James Moriarty is for hire."

"A tradesman?"

"Yes."

"But not the sort who'd fix your heating."

"No, the sort who'd plant a bomb or stage an assassination, but I'm sure he'd make a pretty decent job of your boiler."

Some in the court chuckled at that. Serena exchanged a exasperated glance with John, who sat beside her.

"Would you describe him as-?"

"Leading." Sherlock interrupted.

"What?" The prosecutor looked confused.

"Can't do that. You're leading the witness. He'll object and the judge will uphold."

"Mr. Holmes." The judge said with as much exasperation as Serena was feeling.

"Ask me how. How would I describe him? What opinion have I formed of him? Do they not teach you this?" Sherlock said, being the smart-ass that he was.

"Mr. Holmes, we're fine without your help." The judge said.

"How would you describe this man, his character?" The prosecutor corrected.

"First mistake." Sherlock raised his eyes and looked straight at Moriarty. _"_James Moriarty isn't a man at all – he's a spider; a spider at the center of a web – a criminal web with a thousand threads and he knows precisely how each and every single one of them dances."

Serena thought she saw Moriarty nod slightly in approval.

"And how long-?"

"No, no, don't, don't do that. That's really not a good question." Sherlock said, closing his eyes in annoyance.

"Mr. Holmes." The judge said warningly.

"How long have I known him? Not really your best line of enquiry. We met twice, five minutes in total. I pulled a gun; he tried to blow me up. I felt we had a special something." Sherlock said, and Serena winced.

"Miss Sorrel, are you seriously claiming this man is an

expert, after knowing the accused for just five minutes?" The judge asked the prosecutor.

"Two minutes would have made me an expert. Five was ample."

"Mr. Holmes, that's a matter for the jury." The judge told him, getting more and more annoyed.

"Oh, really?" Sherlock said, and Serena straightened. She knew that look. John pressed a hand to his temples.

"One librarian; two teachers; two high-pressured jobs, probably the City. The foreman's a medical secretary, trained abroad judging by her shorthand." Sherlock said in rapid speed.

"Mr. Holmes!"

"Seven are married and two are having an affair – with each other, it would seem! Oh, and they've just had tea and biscuits. Would you like to know who ate the wafer?"

"Mr. Holmes. You've been called here to answer Miss Sorrel's questions, not to give us a display of your intellectual prowess." The judge said angrily, and Sherlock turned, looking and Serena and John proudly. Serena shook her head slightly, but the corner of her mouth quirked upward.

"Keep your answers brief and to the point. Anything else will be treated as contempt. Do you think you could survive for just a few minutes without showing off?" The judge said angrily, and Sherlock seemed to consider this before opening his mouth again.

"What did I say? I said, 'Don't get clever.'" John told Sherlock as they bailed him out later that day.

"I can't just turn it on and off like a tap." Sherlock said.

"Thankfully, it's done with." Serena said, and Sherlock looked at her and John.

"Well?"

"Well what?" John asked.

"You were there for the whole thing, up in the gallery, start to finish." Sherlock said.

"Like you said it would be. He sat on his backside, never even stirred." John said.

"Moriarty's not mounting any defense." Sherlock said.

"Why do I get the feeling that makes you happy?" Serena asked, and Sherlock shrugged.

"He's-"

"Playing, I know. But this isn't a game." Serena said.

"Bank of England, Tower of London, Pentonville. Three of the most secure places in the country and six weeks ago Moriarty breaks in, no one knows how or why." John said as they got back to Baker Street. Serena slipped out of her heels and collapsed on the couch.

"All we know is-" John said.

"-he ended up in custody." Sherlock finished before looking at Serena and John. Serena got what he meant immediately and nodded.

"Don't do that." John said, looking between them.

"Do what?" Sherlock asked.

"The look." John said.

"Look?"

"You two are doing the look again."

"What look?" Serena asked.

"Well, I can't see it, can I?" Sherlock protested, and John pointed to the mirror.

"It's my face." Sherlock said.

"Yes, and it's doing a thing. You're doing a 'we both know what's really going on here' face."

"Well, we all do."

"No. _I_ don't, which is why I find The Face so annoying." John said.

"If Moriarty wanted the Jewels, he'd have them. If he wanted those prisoners free, they'd be out on the streets. The only reason he's still in a prison cell-"

"Is because that's exactly where he wants to be." Serena finished.

"Somehow this is part of his scheme." Sherlock said coldly.

The next day, Serena and John attended the trial while Sherlock stayed home.

"Mr. Crayhill, can we have your first witness?" The judge asked the defender.

"Your Honor, we're not calling any witnesses." The defender said, and John's eyebrows grew closer together. Serena wasn't surprised, not at all.

"I don't follow. You've entered a plea of Not Guilty." The judge said.

"Nevertheless, my client is offering no evidence. The defense rests." The defendant sat back down into his chair, looking unhappy, and Serena shook her head. Because she had realized why Moriarty wasn't mounting an offense. He knew he would walk free.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. James Moriarty stands accused of several counts of attempted burglary, crimes which-if he's found guilty-will elicit a very long custodial sentence; and yet his legal team has chosen to offer no evidence whatsoever to support their plea. I find myself in the unusual position of recommending a verdict wholeheartedly. You must find him guilty." The judge said.

The court went into recess, and John and Serena walked outside.

"Moriarty's playing us." Serena said.

"He's not going to walk free." John said.

"I'm not so sure." Serena said as the clerk walked past.

"They're coming back." He told John and Serena.

"That's six minutes." John checked his watch.

"Surprised it took them that long, to be honest. There's a queue for the loo." The clerk said before entering the court. John and Serena followed. Serena felt a pit growing in her stomach, and her hands twisted nervously in her lap.

"Have you reached a verdict on which you all agree?" The clerk asked the jury. Serena leaned forward in anticipation as the foreman stood and opened her mouth.

"Not guilty. They found him not guilty. No defense, and Moriarty has walked free." John said angrily into his phone. He was talking to Sherlock, who wasn't responding.

"Sherlock. Are you listening? He's out. You-you _know_ he'll be coming after you." John said, and Serena took the phone from him.

"Sherlock, I'm going to take John out for lunch."

No response, but Sherlock was like that sometimes.

"See you in a while." Serena said, and she heard the tone that meant Sherlock disconnected.

She handed John back his phone.

"I'm worried about him." She said.

"Why, because of Moriarty? I think we all should be worried."

"Yes, but no. He's been acting strangely. Haven't you noticed?" Serena asked.

"Yeah." John said. "I'm worried about him too, Serena. I'm always worried about him."

(Sherlock's POV)

The tea was set out, the violin in hand. Everything was perfectly set up. Now all he needed was the party guest.

There was a creak at the doors. _And here he is._

Sherlock turned away from the door.

"Most people knock." Sherlock said as the door swung open behind him. "But then you're not most people, I suppose." He spun around.

"Kettle's just boiled." He added, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible.

"Johann Sebastian would be appalled." Jim said, and Sherlock noted that he picked up a ruby apple from the fruit basket.

"May I?" Jim asked, and Sherlock gestured to John's chair.

"Please."

Jim sat in Sherlock's chair instead, and Sherlock hesitated. He wasn't used to hesitation, and Jim knew how to tap into every shred of self-doubt Sherlock had.

"You know when he was on his death bed, Bach, he heard his son at the piano playing one of his pieces. The boy stopped before he got to the end-"

"-and the dying man jumped out of his bed, ran straight to the piano and finished it." Sherlock said.

"Couldn't cope with an unfinished melody."

"Neither can you. That's why you've come."

"But be honest: you're just a tiny bit pleased."

"What, with the verdict?" Sherlock asked, but he had to admit, he was a bit happy. Maybe he couldn't cope with a half-finished song either.

"With meback on the streets. Every fairytale needs a good old-fashioned villain." Jim said, smiling.

"You need me, or you're nothing. Because we're just alike, you and I. Except you're boring. You're on the side of the angels." Jim looked upset at that.

"Got to the jury, of course." Sherlock continued, sipping his tea.

"I got into the Tower of London; you think I can't worm my way into twelve hotel rooms?"

Sherlock sighed in realization. "Cable network."

"Every hotel bedroom has a personalized TV screen and every person has their pressure point; someone that they want to protect from harm. Easy peasy." Jim said with a smile.

"So how're you going to do it, burnme?" Sherlock's curiosity was overwhelming.

"Oh, that's the problem, the final problem. Have you worked out what it is yet? What's the final problem? I did tell you but did you listen?" Jim said in a sing-song voice. Sherlock furrowed his brow as he tried to remember.

"How hard do you find it, having to say 'I don't know'?" Jim said.

"I dunno." Sherlock finally said calmly.

"Oh, that's clever; that's very clever; awfully clever." Jim's voice had changed yet again.

"Speaking of clever, have you told your little friends yet?"

"Told them what?"

"Why I broke into all those places and never took anything."

"No." Sherlock suspected Serena had almost figured it out.

"But you understand."

"Obviously."

"Off you go, then."

"You want me to tell you what you already know?" Sherlock was playing a game, and he knew he was losing.

"No, I want you to _prove_ that you know it."

"You didn't take anything because you don't _need_ to." Sherlock said.

"Good." Jim's voice fell to a murmur.

"You'll never need to take anything ever again."

"Very good. Because...?"

"Because nothing, nothing in the Bank of England, the Tower of London or Pentonville Prison could possibly match the value of the key that could get you into all three."

I can open any door anywhere with a few tiny lines of computer code. No such thing as a private bank account now – they're all mine. No such thing as secrecy – I _own_ secrecy. Nuclear codes – I could blow up NATO in alphabetical order." Jim boasted. "In a world of locked rooms, the man with the key is king, and honey, you should see me in a crown."

"You were advertising all the way through the trial. You were showing the world what you could do."

]" And you were helping. Big client list: rogue governments, intelligence communities, terrorist cells. They all want me." Jim laughed. "Suddenly, I'm Mr. Sex."

"If you could break any bank, what do you care about the highest bidder?"

"I don't. I just like to watch them all competing. 'Daddy loves _me_ the best!' Aren't ordinary people adorable?" Jim smiled as if inviting Sherlock to join in the joke.

"Well, you know: you've got John and Serena. I should get myself a live-in one." Jim said, and unwilling, Sherlock tensed. Jim's mouth should never have formed her name. Either of their names'.

"Why are you doing all of this?" Sherlock asked.

"It'd be so funny." Jim was still thinking of a live-in person.

"You don't want money or power, not really. What is it all for?"

"I want to solve the problem, our problem; the final problem." Jim said, and Sherlock's heart skipped a couple beats unsettlingly.

"It's gonna start very soon, Sherlock: the fall." Jim said. "But don't be scared. Falling's just like flying except there's a more permanent destination." His face contorted into a grimace.

"Never liked riddles." Sherlock said casually.

"Learn to. Because I owe you a fall, Sherlock." Jim said, and Sherlock noticed the penknife and apple in his hand for the first time.

"I. Owe. You." Jim stood, leaving the apple, and left.

Once he had gone, Sherlock picked up the fruit. The knife had marred its surface, and the letter were carved into the skin. Sherlock didn't know what he had meant, and that made him very afraid.

**Two Months Later**

(Serena's POV)

The next two months were odd to Serena. Sherlock was behaving funnily, like he needed to see her every minute of every day. He acted like she was going to disappear one morning when he woke up, and Serena couldn't understand why. But she didn't ask him about it.

John and Serena were out one day and had just come back to 221B. Serena reached the front porch first. Her foot nudged something, and she bent down to pick up the strange looking envelope.

"It's my letter from Hogwarts." She joked.

"Haha." John said sarcastically, opening the letter. A bunch of tan and brown crumbs spilled out.

"Breadcrumbs?" Serena remarked.

"Pretty odd." John said, going to the door.

'Scuse, mate." The large man said to him as he walked through the door.

"Oh." John said as he quickly stepped out of the way. Serena slipped past the man and headed up the stairs, John directly behind her.

"Sherlock, something weird-" John began to say. Serena immediately noticed Greg and Donovan talking to Sherlock.

"What's going on?" She asked.

"Kidnapping." Sherlock said.

"Rufus Bruhl, the ambassador to the U.S." Lestrade said.

"He's in Washington, isn't he?" John asked.

"Not him, his children, Max and Claudette, age seven and nine." Lestrade handed Serena a piece of paper.

"Oh god." Serena said, looking over at the photograph of the smiling children.

"They're at St Aldate's." Lestrade said grimly.

"Posh boarding place down in Surrey." Donovan supplied when Serena gave him a blank look.

"The school broke up, all the other boarders went home. Just a few kids remained, including those two." Lestrade said to Sherlock, who was typing on his computer.

"The kids have vanished." Donovan said.

"The ambassador's asked for you personally." Lestrade said teasingly to Sherlock, who grabbed his coat and headed out the door. Serena trailed behind.

"The Reichenbach Hero." Donovan said sarcastically.

"Isn't it great to be working with a celebrity!" Lestrade added with a wide grin, and Serena shoved him as they started down the stairs.

They arrived at the crime scene after a while of driving in silence. When they got out, Serena noticed the sobbing woman with a blanket around her shoulders immediately.

"Miss Mackenzie, House Mistress. Go easy." Lestrade murmured to Sherlock, who nodded before walking over to the woman.

"Miss Mackenzie, you're in charge of pupil welfare, yet you left this place wide open last night." His voice rose angrily with every word. _"_What are you: an idiot, a drunk or a criminal?" He whirled the blanket from her shoulders. "Now quickly, tell me!"

"All the doors and windows were properly bolted. No-one – not even me – went into their room last night. You have to believe me!" The woman sobbed.

"I do. I just wanted you to speak quickly." Sherlock said before glancing at a nearby police officer. "Miss Mackenzie will need to breathe into a bag now."

"What the hell was that?" Serena asked him in an undertone.

"Getting results." He answered, and Serena pressed her lips into a thin line.

"Six grand a term, you'd expect them to keep the kids safe for you. You said the other kids had all left on their holidays?" John asked as Sherlock began searching the room.

"They were the only two sleeping on this floor. Absolutely no sign of a break-in. The intruder must have been hidden inside some place." Lestrade answered.

"Brilliant idea, having only two kids on an entire floor." Serena muttered, her stomach twisting and turning.

"Show me where the brother slept." Sherlock said, and Lestrade took them to a room nearby.

Sherlock only took one glance around before pointing at the window. "The boy sleeps there every night, gazing at the only light source outside in the corridor. He'd recognize every shape, every outline, the silhouette of everyone who came to the door."

"Okay, so…" Lestrade said.

"So someone approaches the door who he doesn't recognize, an intruder. Maybe he can even see the outline of a weapon." Sherlock stepped outside and held up a finger to prove his point.

"What would he do in the precious few seconds before they came into the room? How would he use them if not to cry out? This little boy, this particular little boy, who reads all of those spy books. What would he do?" Sherlock asked before sniffing the air. Serena sniffed and smelled something strange. She knelt on the floor and looked under the bed.

"He'd leave a sign?" John said, and Serena picked up the empty glass bottle. She handed it to Sherlock.

"Get Anderson." Sherlock said, his voice hard and stern.

They turned out every light, every bit that could possibly escape. Anderson and Sherlock each held a black light torch. Their eyes and teeth glowed in the light.

"Linseed oil." Sherlock said as he went over the HELP US on the wall. Serena looked down on the ground.

"Not much use. Doesn't lead us to the kidnapper." Anderson said, and Serena rolled her eyes.

"Brilliant, Anderson." Sherlock said.

"Really?"

"Yes. Brilliant impression of an idiot. The floor." Sherlock said in his isn't-it-obvious voice.

There were a trail of footprints, two or three sets, leading out the door.

"He made a trail for us!" John said as Sherlock followed the footprints.

"The boy was made to walk ahead of them." He said.

"On tiptoe. Anxiety, so, maybe a gun?" Serena suggested.

"The girl was pulled beside him, dragged sideways. He had his left arm cradled about her neck." Sherlock said as they went out into the hallway, where the trail stopped.

"That's the end of it. We don't know where they went from here. Tells us nothing after all." Anderson said.

"You're right, Anderson, nothing." Sherlock said.

"Except his shoe size, his height, his gait, his walking pace."

"And don't forget any residue from the bottom of his shoe." Serena said, and Anderson turned away, looking pissed off.

Sherlock bent and begin scraping away shoeprint. He laughed a little.

"Having fun?" John asked.

"Starting to."

"Maybe don't do the smiling." John suggested. "Kidnapped children?"

Sherlock glanced at Serena, who nodded.

(Sherlock's POV)

They sat in a taxi, driving to St. Bart's slowly. Serena's head rested on Sherlock's shoulder. He could tell how upset she was over the kidnapping. Her face was long.

"But how did he get past the CCTV? If all the doors were locked-" John said.

"He walked in when they weren't locked." Sherlock answered.

"But a stranger can't just walk into a school like that."

"Anyone can walk in anywhere if they pick the right moment. Yesterday, end of term, parents milling around, chauffeurs, staff. What's one more stranger among that lot? He was waiting for them. All he had to do was find a place to hide." Sherlock explained.

Molly was turned when they found her at last.

"Molly!" He said loudly, and she turned.

"Oh, hello. I'm just going out." Molly said.

"No you're not."

"I've got a lunch date."

"Cancel it. You're having lunch with me." Sherlock took out the bags of crisps he had in his pocket.

"What?" Molly said.

"What Sherlock is trying to say is that we need your help." Serena said.

"It's one of your old boyfriends. We're trying to track him down. He's been a bit naughty!" Sherlock said. There was a pause as Serena and John stared at him.

"It's Moriarty?" John asked in undertone.

"Course it's Moriarty."

"Er, Jim actually wasn't even my boyfriend. We went out three times. I ended it." Molly said proudly.

"Yes, and then he stole the Crown Jewels, broke into the Bank of England and organized a prison break at Pentonville. For the sake of law and order, I suggest you avoid all future attempts at a relationship, Molly."

Sherlock had been working for a couple hours now, and he still couldn't identify the last ingredient.

"What did you mean, "I owe you"?" Molly asked, and Sherlock glanced at her before looking over at John and Serena, talking in the corner.

"You said, "I owe you". You were muttering it while you were working." Molly said, and Sherlock turned back to the microscope.

"Nothing. Mental note."

"You're a bit like my dad." Molly said. "He's dead. No, sorry."

"Molly, please don't feel the need to make conversation. It's really not your area." Sherlock said.

"When he was…dying, he was always cheerful; he was lovely, except when he thought no one could see. I saw him once. He looked sad." Molly said.

"Molly-"

"You look sad, when you think they can't see you." She continued, looking over at Serena and John. Serena was laughing, and that hurt.

"Are you okay?" Molly asked.

"And don't just say you are, because I know what that means, looking sad when you think no one can see you."

"You can see me." Sherlock pointed out.

"I don't count." Molly said, and Sherlock stared at her in surprise.

"What I'm trying to say is that, if there's anything I can do, anything you need, anything at all, you can have me_._" She winced. "No, I just mean, I mean if there's anything you need…it's fine."

"Wh-wh-what could I need from you?" Sherlock asked, stuttering a little

"Nothing. I dunno. You could probably say thank you, actually." Her voice turned firm.

"Thank you?"

"I'm just gonna go and get some crisps. Do you want anything?" Sherlock opened his mouth.

"It's okay, I know you don't."

"Well, actually, maybe I'll-"

"I know you don't." Molly walked away quickly, and Sherlock stared after her, bewildered.

"Sherlock!" Serena said, and Sherlock looked at her.

"This envelope that was in her trunk. There's another one." John said.

"What?"

"On our doorstep. We found it today." John said, taking out a crumpled envelope.

"Yes, and look at that. Look at that. Exactly the same seal." John said triumphantly. Sherlock stuck his hand in the substance inside.

"Breadcrumbs."

"Uh-huh. It was there when we got back."

"A little trace of breadcrumbs; hardback copy of fairy tales." Sherlock said, and Serena smiled.

"Hansel and Gretel." She said, and Sherlock nodded.

"What sort of kidnapper leaves clues?" John asked.

"The sort that likes to boast; the sort that thinks it's all a game. He sat in our flat and he said these exact words to me. All fairytales need a good old-fashioned villain." Sherlock said, his eyes staring off.

"The fifth substance: it's part of the tale. The witch's house."

"What?" John asked.

"The glycerol molecule."

"What are you going on about?" Serena asked.

"PGPR!"

"What's that?" John asked.

Sherlock leapt to his feet and headed for the door. "It's used in making chocolate."

They rushed to Scotland Yard, Serena insisting that they get Toby first. So, with a German Shepherd in the taxi, they sped off.

(Sherlock's POV)

"This fax arrived an hour ago." Greg said to them as they arrived. Sherlock handed Serena the piece of paper.

**_Hurry up they're DYING._**

"What have you got for us?" Greg asked.

"Need to find a place in the city where all five of these things intersect." Sherlock showed Greg the list.

"Chalk, asphalt, brick dust, vegetation…what the hell is this? Chocolate?"

"I think we're looking for a disused sweet factory."

"We need to narrow that down. A sweet factory with asphalt?"

"No. No, no, no. Too general. Need something more specific. Chalk; chalky clay, that's a far thinner band of geology." Sherlock told him.

"Brick dust?"

"Building site. Bricks from the nineteen fifties."

Greg groaned. "There are thousands of building sites in London."

"I've got people out looking."

"So have I." Greg protested.

"Homeless network, faster than the police. Far more relaxed about taking bribes." Sherlock said with a snide smile. He closed his eyes and his phone began ringing. He glanced at Greg to make his point.

"He'll find them." Serena told Greg.

"I just hope we're fast enough.

"Serena." Sherlock said, holding out his phone. Serena looked at the picture.

"Rhododendron ponticum. It matches." Sherlock said, and his eyes flicked over empty space like there was something there.

"Addlestone." He said.

"What?" Greg asked.

"There's a mile of disused factories between the river and the park. It matches everything." Sherlock said, already moving to the door, Toby trailing at his heels. Serena went after him.

"Right, come on." Greg said behind her. "Come on!"

They went over the speed limit the whole way there, and Greg handed Serena a little girl's shirt. She took it and gave him a questioning glance.

"So your pet there can do something useful." He answered, and she followed Donovan into the building.

"You, look over there. Look everywhere. Okay, spread out, please. Spread out!" Donovan ordered, and Serena held the shirt to Toby's nose. She unhooked his leash.

"Find, Toby, find." She said urgently.

He took off, and Serena took a flashlight from Donovan.

"Thanks." She said, switching it on. She headed off in the direction of a jumble of metal.

"They're still here!" Sherlock shouted loudly, his voice echoing around the factory.

Within a minute, she heard barking and rushed toward the sound. Toby's frantically waving tail caught the edge of her light, and she knelt beside him, shining the light on the children. The boy was lying down, his eyes closed weakly. Serena's heart jumped.

"I found them. Over here!" She shouted loudly, and Toby sat down. Hesitantly, the little girl stretched out a hand to pat his fur, and Serena smiled kindly at her.

"We're going to get you out of here. You're safe now." She said, holding out a hand to help the girl.

"Right, then. The professionals have finished. If the amateurs wanna go in and have their turn." Donovan said as she and Lestrade walked out of the room the little girl was in. Serena rolled her eyes.

"Now, remember, she's in shock and she's just seven years old, so anything you can do to-" Greg said to Sherlock.

"-not be myself."

"Yeah. Might be helpful."

Sherlock sighed and popped his collar down with a glance at John. He walked in, leaving the door ajar. Serena could still hear his voice.

"Claudette, I-" He began, and the little girl looked up at him. She began screaming, piercing and terrifying.

"No-no, I know it's been hard for you. Claudette, listen to me-" Sherlock said, and Serena went inside, pulling on his jacket.

"Sherlock, you're scaring her!" She shouted, pulling her back.

"Makes no sense." John said.

"The kid's traumatized. Something about Sherlock

reminds her of the kidnapper." Greg said, and Serena looked at Sherlock, staring out the window.

"So what's she said?" John asked.

"Hasn't uttered another syllable."

"And the boy?"

"No, he's unconscious; still in intensive care."

Only Serena heard Sherlock's intake of breath.

"Sherlock?" She asked, putting a hand on his jacket. "Is everything-"

"I'm fine.

"Well, don't let it get to you. I always feel like screaming when you walk into a room! In fact, so do most people." Greg said, and Serena cast a glare in his direction.

"Come on." Greg said to her and John, and they walked out of the room.

"Let's go outside." John said, and Serena nodded.

They said nothing, Serena absorbed in her worry and concern. She had thought she had climbed over the last wall to Sherlock's true emotions, and then everything spilled from her grasp.

"Ah." John said, and Serena spun, seeing Sherlock striding out of the doors.

"You okay?" He asked.

"Thinking." Sherlock said. A cab pulled up, and Sherlock strode forward.

"This is my cab. You two get the next one."

"Why?" John asked.

"You might talk."

Sherlock was sitting in the cab, thinking intensely over his problem. The final problem.

"This is a stunning eveningwear set from us here at London Taxi Shopping." The TV screen flickered to life.

"Can you turn this off, please?" Sherlock asked the driver, who didn't respond.

"As you can see, the set comprises of a beautiful-"

"Can you turn this off-" Sherlock said angrily before the screen flickered. A different image appeared.

"Hullo. Are you ready for the story?" Jim's face appeared, his voice childish. "This is the story of Sir Boast-a-lot. Sir Boast-a-lot was the bravest and cleverest knight at the Round Table, but soon the other knights began to grow tired of his stories about how brave he was and how many dragons he'd slain and soon they began to wonder 'Are Sir Boast-a-lot's stories even true?' Oh, no. So one of the knights went to King Arthur and said 'I don't _believe_ Sir Boast-a-lot's stories. He's just a big old liar who makes things up to make himself look good.' And then even the King began to wonder…" Jim shook his head.

"But that wasn't the end of Sir Boast-a-lot's problem. No. That wasn't the _final_ problem. The End."

"Stop the cab! _Stop the cab!" _Sherlock shouted, and the cab pulled over. He leapt from the seat.

"What _was_ that?" He demanded of the driver. "What _was_ that?"

He looked in the window and took a step back in surprise.

"No charge." Jim said nonchalantly. Sherlock's face twisted in rage. He tried to grab the handle of the door, but his fingers slipped from it, and the taxi sped off.

Sherlock kicked at the ground, his heart pumping. He didn't see the car speeding toward him out of the night.

"Look out!" Someone shouted, and Sherlock was thrown to the ground. He pushed his assailant off of him and looked at the passing car. He looked at the man who had saved his life.

"Thank you." He said, standing and holding out a hand. The man hesitated before shaking it.

Three shots rang out, and Sherlock ducked as blood sprayed from the stranger's chest. He fell to the ground as Sherlock sprang back, completely shocked.

"Sherlock!" He heard John shout, and he turned in time to see Serena before she wrapped her arms around his neck. He pulled her closer and was surprised to find her entire body trembling. Her heart was going as fast as his, in sync, and he buried his face in her hair just to make sure she was there.


	30. Hostage

**Part Two of the Reichenbach Fall is up! Yay! I think there will only be one more chapter of the fall, and then a separate chapter for the funeral. This chapter is shorter that the last, thankfully.**

**Please review! It is what motivates me.**

(Serena' POV)

"That…it's him. It's him. Sulejmani or something. Mycroft showed me his file. He's a big Albanian gangster lives two doors down from us." John said as Serena looked at the dead man. She had let go of Sherlock, but she kept glancing at him.

"He died because I shook his hand." Sherlock said.

"What do you mean?" John asked.

"He saved my life but he couldn't touch me. Why?" Sherlock began stalking off.

"Sherlock!" Serena called after him, but he didn't answer, just walked into the apartment.

She followed him up the stairs as he spoke. "Four assassins living right on our doorstep. They didn't come here to kill me; they have to keep me alive. I've got something that all of them want, but if one of them approaches me-"

"-the others kill them before they can get it." John finished.

Sherlock opened his computer for a few seconds before closing it again.

"All of the attention is focused on me. There's a surveillance web closing in on us right now." He said.

"So what have you got that's so important?" John asked, and Serena saw in Sherlock's eyes that he knew, but he didn't say a word. She held her tongue.

"We need to ask about the dusting." He said, looking at her with shielded eyes.

She went to get Mrs. Hudson.

"Precise details: in the last week, what's been cleaned?" Sherlock asked her.

"Well, Tuesday I did your lino-"

"No, in here, this room. This is where we'll find it, any break in the dust line. You can put back anything but dust."

He swirled his fingers across a desk. "Dust is eloquent."

"What's he on about?" Mrs. Hudson asked Serena.

"Cameras. We're being watched." Sherlock said, climbing onto a chair.

"What? Cameras?" She cringed. "Here? I'm in my nightie!" She hurried down the stairs, hands clutching at her long nightgown.

Serena heard someone coming up the stairs, and Serena turned to look at Greg.

"Greg?" She asked.

"No, Inspector." Sherlock said.

"What?" Greg said, and Sherlock stepped down from the chair with something in his hand.

"The answer's no."

"But you haven't heard the question!" Greg protested.

"You want to take me to the station. Just saving you the trouble of asking."

"Greg!" Serena exclaimed.

"Sherlock-"

"The scream?" Sherlock interrupted.

Greg sighed. "Yeah."

"Who was it? Donovan? I bet it was Donovan. Am I somehow responsible for the kidnapping? Ah, Moriarty is smart. He planted that doubt in her head; that little nagging sensation. You're gonna have to be strong to resist. You can't kill an idea, can you?" Sherlock said, moving toward Greg and placing a fingertip on his forehead as Serena watched, her stomach flipping over and over and over.

"Not once it's made a home there."

"Will you come?" Greg asked half-heartedly.

"One photograph, that's his next move. Moriarty's game: first the scream, then a photograph of me being taken in for questioning. He wants to destroy me inch by inch. It is a game, Lestrade, and not one I'm willing to play." Sherlock stared straight at Greg. "Give my regards to Sergeant Donovan."

Greg began to walk away, but Serena stopped him on the stairs.

"You can not be serious?" She asked incredulously.

"Standard procedure." Greg answered, but he wouldn't look at her.

"Him, a kidnapper? Let's be honest, if Sherlock was going to kidnap someone, he would pay someone else. There wouldn't be any mistakes like this one. It's too obvious, can't you see that? This is exactly what Moriarty wants! He wants you to believe Sherlock is a fake."

Greg put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, but the Chief Inspector insisted. I have no choice anymore." He walked away, and Serena headed back up the stairs, her heart racing. She could hear raised voices.

"You're worried they're right about me." Sherlock said.

"No."

"That's why you're so upset. You can't even entertain the possibility that they might be right. You're afraid that you've been taken in as well."

"No I'm not." Serena emerged from the stairs but stayed in the doorway.

"Moriarty is playing with your mind too!" Sherlock said angrily, slamming his fist on the table. "Can't you see what's going on?"

There was a long pause.

"No, I know you're for real."

"A hundred percent?"

"Well, nobody could fake being such an annoying dick all the time." John turned away from Sherlock, and Sherlock spun, meeting Serena's eyes.

"And you? Do you believe it?" He asked her quietly, moving towards her. She shook her head.

"Not at all?"

"You could never be someone you're not." She whispered, pulled him closer so she could kiss him.

He nodded, pulling away slightly. "I need a favor."

"What is it?"

He produced a letter. "Can you deliver this to the homeless woman near St. Bart's?" He handed her a note, and she took it, nodding.

"Whatever you need. Be back soon." She said quietly, heading back down the stairs.

(Sherlock's POV)

It was quiet for about twenty minutes. Twenty more minutes of breathing in and out and thinking.

"So, still got some friends on the Force. It's Lestrade. Says they're all coming over here right now, queuing up to slap on the handcuffs. Every single officer you ever made feel like a tit, which is a lot of people." John announced loudly.

There was a quiet knock, and Sherlock looked up, expecting Serena, wanting Serena.

"Oh, sorry, am I interrupting?" Mrs. Hudson said, bustling in.

"Some chap delivered a parcel. I forgot. Marked 'Perishable'-I had to sign for it. Funny name. German, like the fairytales." Mrs. Hudson said, and Sherlock's head snapped up. He took the package from John and ripped it open. A gingerbread man slipped out, and Sherlock flipped it over.

"Burnt to a crisp."

"What does it mean?" John asked, but before Sherlock could answer-

"Police!"

"I'll go." Mrs. Hudson said.

"…Sherlock…" That was Donovan's voice. Of course she was hear. Oh, it was all going according to plan. Not Sherlock's plan of course, but dear Jim's.

"Evening, Mrs. Hudson." Lestrade was here. Good, good. He got to witness Sherlock's fall.

"We need to talk to you!" Donovan shouted up the stairs.

"Don't barge in like that!" Mrs. Hudson said, and Sherlock picked up his jacket, putting it on slowly, savoring it.

"Have you got a warrant? Have you?" John said, on the stairs, on stage. And off stage, Serena was delivering a letter that meant nothing.

"Leave it, John." Lestrade said.

"Really! Manners!" Mrs. Hudson always did defend him, to her last breath.

Lestrade walked in, followed by Donovan, who looked smug.

"Sherlock Holmes, I'm arresting you on suspicion of abduction and kidnapping." He said, snapped handcuffs on Sherlock, who didn't do a thing.

"He's not resisting." John said angrily.

"It's all right, John."

"He's not resisting. No, it's not all right. This is ridiculous!" John said.

"Get him downstairs now." Lestrade ordered an officer, and Sherlock was taken out of his home. He wondered if he would get the chance to see Serena again before the end.

(Serena's POV)

Serena was on her way back when she saw the lights flashing and began running, _sprinting_, because she had to get there before they took him away.

"Please, let me through!" She shouted over the confusion. An officer pushed her back, and she shoved him away.

"Sherlock!" She shouted. "Sherlock!"

He turned from where he leaned against the car and smiled at her. John was beside him.

"Let me see him. Please, let me see him." Serena begged the stone-faced officer.

"Let her through." Greg said loudly, and Serena looked at him gratefully before she ran for Sherlock.

"It's going to be okay." She said to Sherlock. "It's going to be okay. I'll bail you out. I'll be a witness in the trial. I'll do anything."

"I know." Sherlock said quietly, and Serena broke. She leaned against him, his forehead pressed against hers. His arms wounds around her waist, and hers lay limp around his neck.

"I love you." She whispered, feeling the chaos around them disappear.

"I suppose I do to."

She smiled a little at that.

"I have to leave, to find him." Sherlock whispered in her ear. She held back a shiver.

"I know." She whispered back. "But I'm scared, Sherlock. I'm scared I won't see you again."

"You will."

"Promise?" Serena asked him fiercely.

"Promise." Sherlock's reply was just as sure.

He kissed her then. Not like a usual fleeting pass. Passionately, pulling her against him, taking her breath away. She ran her hands over his neck, feeling the bones there before tangling them in his hair.

She finally pulled away, his lips lingering on hers. She pulled away reluctantly, and he winked at her. She smirked coyly before stepping back.

She saw him exchange a few words with John before his hand slipped inside the car.

An ear-splitting screech of feedback echoed throughout the air. Serena's ears cried out in pain, and she clapped her hands over them. When she looked at Sherlock again, he held a gun.

"Ladies and gentlemen, will you all please get on your knees?" He said commandingly, and Serena began to smile. No one moved, so Sherlock pointed to the sky and fired twice.

"Now would be good!" He shouted.

"Do as he says!" Greg commanded, and Serena sank, still grinning broadly.

"Just, just so you're aware, the gun is his idea. I'm just a…you know-" John began to stumble over his words as Sherlock dragged him away.

"-my hostage." Sherlock turned the gun to John's head.

John muttered something, and Sherlock turned, running off into the black.

Serena stood up and looked where they had gone.

She could still taste Sherlock's last kiss.


	31. Lingers

**Hey guys. Sorry about the wait at such a pivotal moment, but no, this chapter doesn't finish Reichenbach, sorry. I just started this thing called school (you might have heard of it :P) and it's sucking away all my free time. So I don't have that much time to write. Expect an even longer wait for the next :(**

**Sorry! Please review anyway!**

Sherlock waited patiently for that stupid reporter to come back as he searched for something to pick the lock with. He finally heard her coming up the stairs.

"Too late to go on the record?" He said, and she jumped in fright.

"Congratulations. The truth about Sherlock Holmes." Sherlock said to her, picking the lock with a hairpin. "The scoop that everybody wanted and you got it. Bravo."

"I gave you your opportunity. I wanted to be on your side, remember? You turned me down, so-" She said.

"And then, behold, someone turns up and spills all the beans. How utterly convenient. Who is Brook?" Kitty didn't answer.

"Oh, come on, Kitty. No one trusts the voice at the end of a telephone. There are all those furtive little meetings in cafés, those sessions in the hotel room where he gabbled into your Dictaphone. How do you know that you can trust him? A man turns up with the Holy Grail in his pockets. What were his credentials?" Sherlock demanded, and someone came up the stairs.

"Darling, they didn't have any ground coffee so I just got normal-" Moriarty emerged, and Sherlock bolted to his feet, his hands in instant fists.

"You said that they wouldn't find me here. You said that I'd be safe here." Moriarty said in a timid, frightened voice. His disguise was clever.

"You _are_ safe, Richard. I'm a witness. He wouldn't harm you in front of witnesses." Kitty said reassuringly. Sherlock thought she was being rather naïve.

So that's your source? Moriarty is Richard Brook?" John said angrily.

"Of course he's Richard Brook. There is no Moriarty. There never has been." Kitty said, wrapping an arm around Moriarty's shoulders.

"What are you talking about?" John demanded.

"Look him up. Rich Brook, an actor Sherlock Holmes hired to be Moriarty."

"Doctor Watson, I know you're a good man." Moriarty said, and John took a step forward.

"Don't…don't h…Don't hurt me." Moriarty stammered.

"No, you are Moriarty!" John screamed in rage. "He's Moriarty! We've met. Remember? _You were gonna blow me up!_"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Moriarty looked at Sherlock, who was still marveling over the simplicity of his plan. "He paid me. I needed the work. I'm an actor. I was out of work. I'm sorry, okay?"

"Sherlock, you'd better…explain…because I am not getting this." John panted in anger.

"Oh I'll, I'll be doing the explaining, in print. It's all here, conclusive proof." She handed John a folder, which he flipped open.

"You invented James Moriarty, your nemesis." Kitty said to Sherlock

"Invented him?" John exclaimed.

"Mmm-hmm. Invented all the crimes, actually, and to cap it all, you made up a master villain." Kitty said.

"Oh, don't be ridiculous!"

"_Ask_ him. He's right here! Just ask him. Tell him, Richard."

"Look, for God's sake, this man was on trial!"

"Yes, and you paid him; paid him to take the rap. Promised you'd rig the jury." Kitty said to Sherlock. "Not exactly a West End role, but I'll bet the money was good. But not so good he didn't want to sell his story."

"I am sorry. I am. I am sorry." Moriarty begged John.

"So-so this is the story that you're gonna publish. The big conclusion of it all. Moriarty's an actor?" John asked.

"He knows I am. I have proof. I have proof. Show him, Kitty! Show him something!"

"Yeah, show me something."

"I'm on TV. I'm on kids' TV. I'm The Storyteller." Moriarty said. "I'm…I'm The Storyteller. It's on DVD. Just tell him. It's all coming out now. It's all over." Sherlock was getting angrier at every word. He was so afraid John would start to believe it all.

"Just tell them. Just tell them. _Tell him!" _

"It's all over now ... NO!" Moriarty shouted, stumbling backwards as Sherlock took a threatening step forward, his expression feral.

"Don't you touch me! Don't you lay a finger on me!"

"Stop it. _Stop it NOW!_" Sherlock shouted.

"Don't hurt me!" Moriarty dashed up the stairs, and Sherlock ran after him. Moriarty slammed a door behind him. Sherlock struggled to open it, and John shouted behind him,

"Don't let him get away!"

"Leave him alone!" Kitty shouted, and Sherlock looked in to see an open window.

"No, no, no. He'll have back-up." Sherlock said, beginning to head for the door. Kitty blocked his way.

"D'you know what, Sherlock Holmes? I look at you now and I can read you." She said, and Sherlock moved past her.

"And you ... repel ... me!" She said cruelly after him and John as they hurried off.

"Can he do that? Completely change his identity; make you the criminal?" John asked as they emerged onto the street.

"He's got my whole life story. That's what you do when you sell a big lie; you wrap it up in the truth to make it more palatable." Sherlock said.

"Your word against his."

"He's been sowing doubt into people's minds for the last twenty-four hours. There's only one thing he needs to do to complete his game, and that's to-" Sherlock's face grew slack, and he stopped talking or moving. He knew what the last step was now. He could see the entirety of Moriarty's plan.

"Sherlock?" John said.

"Something I need to do." Sherlock mumbled.

"What? Can I help?"

"No-on my own." Sherlock said, hailing a passing taxi and getting in. For what he was about to do, no one could no. Not Lestrade, not Mrs. Hudson, not John.

Not even Serena, who he loved more than anything.

He waited. He waited for a long time. He waited in the dark and thought about how no one asked for bad things to happen, but they did anyway.

He thought about John, and how he would cope.

But mostly he thought of Serena, and her tears, and whether or not she would move on without him.

Finally the door swung open and her ponytail appeared.

"You're wrong, you know." He said quietly, and she jumped in surprise.

"You do count." Sherlock continued. "You've always counted and I've always trusted you."

He glanced at her. "But you were right. I'm not okay."

"Tell me what's wrong." She said back.

"Molly, I think I'm going to die." Sherlock walked toward her.

"What do you need?"

"If I wasn't everything that you think I am, everything that I think I am, would you still want to help me?"

"What do you need?" She said, and Sherlock stared at her with gratitude and sadness in his eyes.

"You."

(Serena's POV)

Serena's night was long. Miserable and lonely were added on top of the unbearable length.

She went back to her flat. She had to see what she had left behind. The first room reminded her of things she didn't want to think about; her playing the piano, Sherlock walking in on her showering, her bucket list, her kidnapping. But mostly it just told her how lonely she was without him.

How had she become so dependent? When did she begin looking at Sherlock as if he was her savior? What had he done to slip inside her heart and mind?

She didn't know.

She slept on her couch, struggling to keep her eyes wide open to see her phone screen light up. But it never did.

The buzzing woke her up. Two harsh vibrates was all it took to wake her out of her restless sleep.

It kept ringing as she lunged for the phone, sliding it to her ear.

"Hello?" She asked groggily.

The voice told her what had happened, and she bolted to her feet, white rage pouring into her heart.

"I'm on my way." She said, rushing out the door and heading for Baker Street.

She got there quickly, running through the door. Her body collided with something hard, and she looked at John.

"Mrs. Hudson!" She gasped.

"You heard she was shot?" John asked, his face pale, and Serena's stomach dropped.

"Where's Sherlock?"

John didn't answer, but he brushed past her.

"John!" Serena shouted after him as he ran across the street. She followed.

"WHERE'S SHERLOCK?"

(Sherlock's POV)

The sun was bright. So bright, so hauntingly pretty. Too bad he was alive to ruin it.

A song was playing loudly. Dear Jim had his phone out, playing the music, so harsh and different compared to the light touch of Serena's fingers dancing over the keys.

"Ah. Here we are at last, you and me, Sherlock, and our problem. The final problem." Jim said as Sherlock walked closer. He held the phone up higher.

"Staying alive! It's so boring, isn't it?" The music was silenced angrily. "It's just staying_._ All my life I've been searching for distractions. You were the best distraction and now I don't even have you. Because I've beaten you." Jim said as Sherlock watched him.

"And you know what? In the end it was easy. It was easy. Now I've got to go back to playing with the ordinary people. And it turns out _you're_ ordinary just like all of them." Jim nodded.

"Ah well." He stood to face Sherlock, who was watched intently.

"Did you almost start to wonder if I was real?" Jim asked. "Did I nearly get you?"

"Richard Brook." Sherlock said calmly.

"Nobody seems to get the joke, but you do."

"Of course."

"Attaboy." Jim smiled proudly.

"Rich Brook in German is Reichen Bach, the case that made my name."

"Just tryin' to have some fun." Jim said, circling Sherlock. Sherlock began tapping his fingers to the beat, right on cue.

"Good. You got that too." Jim said.

"Beats like digits. Every beat is a one; every rest is a zero. Binary code. That's why all those assassins tried to save my life. It was hidden on me; hidden inside my head, a few simple lines of computer code that can break into any system."

"I told all my clients: last one to Sherlock is a sissy."

"Yes, but now that it's up here, I can use it to alter all the records. I can kill Rich Brook and bring back Jim Moriarty." Sherlock said proudly, and Jim looked at him. Was that…disappointment?

"No, no, no, no, no, this is too easy_. _This is too easy." Jim buried his face in his hands before looking back at Sherlock.

"There _is_ no key, DOOFUS!" He screamed, and Sherlock's confusion overwhelmed him, showing on his face clearly.

"Those digits are meaningless. They're utterly meaningless. You don't really think a couple of lines of computer code are gonna crash the world around our ears? I'm disappointed. I'm disappointed in you, ordinary Sherlock." He lumbered away, his arms swinging stupidly at his sides.

"But the rhythm-"

"'Partita number one.' Thank you, Johann Sebastian Bach!"

"But then how did-" Sherlock didn't understand. He didn't know the game that was being played anymore.

"Then how did I break into the Bank, to the Tower, to the Prison?" Jim spread his arms wide as if showing Sherlock the board.

"Daylight robbery. All it takes is some willing participants. I knew you'd fall for it. That's your weakness. You always want everything to be clever." Jim said.

"Now, shall we finish the game? One final act. Glad you chose a tall building, nice way to do it." He continued without missing a beat, and Sherlock stared at him.

"Do it? Do-do what?" He asked foolishly before putting together the pieces.

"Yes, of course. My suicide." He said coldly.

"'Genius detective proved to be a fraud.' I read it in the paper, so it must be true. I love newspapers, fairytales-"

Sherlock stepped to the edge and looked down. It was such a long way. But he had a plan. He always had a plan.

"And pretty Grimm ones too." Jim said, his breath rustling the hair on the back of Sherlock's neck.

"I can still prove that you created an entirely false identity." Sherlock said sharply.

"Oh, just kill yourself. It's a lot less effort."

Sherlock turned away, running a distressed hand through his hair.

"Go on. For me. Pleeeeeease?" He said, and Sherlock spun around, overcome with fury. He grabbed Jim by his coat and held him over the edge.

"You're insane." Sherlock spat.

"You're just getting that now?" Jim asked, and Sherlock pushed him further. Jim flailed slightly before looking deep into Sherlock's eyes.

"Okay, let me give you a little extra incentive. Your friends will die if you don't." Jim said, and Sherlock began considering the possibilities.

"John."

"Not just John. Everyone." Jim's voice dropped to a bare whisper.

"Mrs. Hudson."

"_Everyone._"

"Lestrade."

"Oh, aren't you forgetting someone? A very special someone." Jim giggled, and Sherlock held him over the edge as far as he could without dropping him.

"Not her. Don't you dare!"

"Four bullets, four gunmen, four victims. There's no stopping them now. Unless my people see you jump."

Sherlock let him go with a shove, and Jim stood up, smiling triumphantly as Sherlock panted. He was lost in horror. How had he not expected the possible death of her, the most important person in his life?

"You can have me arrested; you can torture me; you can do anything you like with me; but nothing's gonna prevent them from pulling the trigger. Your only four friends in the world will die unless-

"Unless I kill myself-complete your story." Sherlock said. His hand was shivering just a bit.

"You've gotta admit that's sexier."

"And I die in disgrace." Sherlock looked out over the city he had protected. And they would forget about him, and move on. And John and Serena would move on.

"Of course. That's the point of this." Jim looked over the edge. "Oh, you've got an audience now. Off you pop."

"Go on." He said, and Sherlock stepped up on the ledge slowly, his breath rattling in and out.

"I told you how this ends.

Sherlock's breath got even more shaky as he looked down at the unyielding pavement. _Serena would forget about him_.

"Your death is the only thing that's gonna call off the killers. I'm certainly not gonna do it." Jim looked at him, and Sherlock blinked.

"Would you give me…one moment, please, one moment of privacy?" Sherlock asked only half-steadily. "Please?"

Jim looked disappointed. "Of course.

Sherlock took several breathes, still looking for a way out, an escape hatch. He racked his brain for a solution to this final problem.

And then it hit him, and his breath caught before he began laughing.

"What?" Jim asked, and Sherlock kept laughing happily. Because he was happy.

"What is it?" Jim asked angrily.

Sherlock looked at him.

"What did I miss?" Sherlock hopped off the ledge and walked closer to the enraged Jim.

"You're not going to do it. So the killers _can_ be called off, then-there's a recall code or a word or a number. I don't have to die if I've got you." Sherlock's voice turned to sing-song, imitating the enemy he had both loved and hated for so long.

"Oh!" Jim laughed shortly in relief. "You think you can make me stop the order? You think you can make me do that?"

"Yes. So do you."

"Sherlock, your big brother and all the King's horses couldn't make me do a thing I didn't want to."

Sherlock faced Jim and stared at him intensely. "Yes, but I'm not my brother, remember? I am you – prepared to do anything; prepared to burn; prepared to do what ordinary people won't do. You want me to shake hands with you in hell? I shall not disappoint you."

Jim stared at him for a moment before shaking his head.

"Naah. You _talk_ big. Naah. You're ordinary. You're ordinary. You're on the side of the angels.

"Oh, I may be on the side of the angels, but don't think for one second that I am one of them." Sherlock's voice fell into the ominous tone he knew he'd need.

There was a long pause where Jim just looked at Sherlock. Sherlock could feel him trying to figure out just how far he would go.

"No, you're not." Jim finally said. He shut his eyes peacefully before smiling and opening them again.

"I see. You're not ordinary. No. You're me." Jim's voice became insane. He hissed out a delighted laugh and his voice became more high-pitched.

"You're me! Thank you!"

He held out a hand to shake Sherlock's, which Sherlock pondered.

"Sherlock Holmes." Jim said, and Sherlock took his hand.

"Thank you. _Bless_ _you_." Jim whispered, his gaze lowering.

"As long as I'm alive, you can save your friends; you've got a way out." He said slowly, his gaze still pointed down.

"Well, good luck with that." He said, and his other hand flashed upward an arc of silver and black. He stared Sherlock in the eyes as Sherlock stared, pulling back in spite of himself.

And then he dropped like a stone, the thunder ringing off the building and the clouds. Sherlock tottered backward, his entire body ringing with shock. The ghost of Jim Moriarty's last laugh stayed etched on his pale face as a pool of black blood spread across the gray of the pavement.


	32. Fall

**OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD sorry I needed to let all that out.**

**So I started school a month or so ago and I have had hardly any time to write plus I didn't want to face THE FALL. Anyway I changed the scene a bit but it still has plenty of angst.**

**I am so so so so so so sorry it's taken me a month to write this relatively short chapter. After this one, there are 2 chapters left before the hiatus until Season 3 comes, if it ever does. Hopefully I can finish those in the next couple weeks.**

**I'm working on two other fanfics right now, neither published at all. One is Doctor Who:**

_**Leah believes that ordinary people can't do impossible things. That is, until the mysterious Doctor gives her the chance to be more than ordinary. Traveling in a little blue box across the stars, Leah realizes the hard things are the things most worth doing. 10/OC**_

**So that should be fun to write. I've only finished the first chapter, but it starts after the christmas special of season 3. Martha will join the 10th and Leah on most of their adventures of Season 3, but Donna will not be making an appearance in Season 4, sorry.**

**My second one is Teen Wolf, and I am sooooo excited because duh, obviously hot boys everywhere, haha:**

_**Rayne was a lot of things. She was bad at science. She was a person who had deep, dark secrets. And in many ways, she was impossible. But she had convinced herself she wasn't the type to fall in love. Especially with someone who kept more secrets than herself. Derek/OC**_

**So that one is set towards the beginning of Season 2. I've written all of Season 2 and am starting Season 3. Each chapter will have song lyrics at the beginning that may or may not have something to do with the chapter. **

**PM me and tell me if you'll read either of these please.**

**Don't forget to review!**

Serena climbed out of the cab and began running. She ran towards St. Bart's, avoiding getting hit by a car. Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she answered it.

"Hello?" She asked.

"Serena."

His voice sounded musical. "Oh god, Sherlock, I thought Moriarty tried something." She hurried toward St. Bart's.

"Turn around and walk back the way you came now." Sherlock commanded, and John approached her.

"What's going on?" He asked.

"Sherlock, I'm coming inside.

"Just do as I ask. Please." Sherlock said frantically, and Serena pulled John back towards where the cab had dropped them off.

"Stop there." Sherlock said, and Serena paused.

"Sherlock, please tell me what's going on, because I'm freaking out, okay?"

"Okay, look up. I'm on the rooftop." Sherlock said, and Serena looked up. His silhouette stood out clearly.

"Sherlock…"

"Oh God." John said.

"I…I…I can't come down, so we'll…we'll just have to do it like this." Sherlock said, his voice breaking.

"Sherlock, please just tell me what's going on." Serena said, her own voice cracking.

"An apology. It's all true." Sherlock said, and Serena felt her heart break.

"Everything they said about me. I invented Moriarty."

"I know that's not true."

"I-I'm a fake." Sherlock said. "The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade; I want you to tell Mrs. Hudson, and Molly…in fact, tell anyone who will listen to you that I created Moriarty for my own purposes."

"Sherlock, stop, okay, stop! You read me when I first walked into your flat. You knew everything about me."

"Nobody could be that clever."

"You _are_ that clever."

There was a gasp on the phone, like a fish trying to breathe. "I researched you. Before we met I discovered everything that I could to impress you. It's a trick. Just a magic trick." Sherlock said.

"You're lying!" Serena said angrily, trying to hold back tears. She moved towards the doors again.

"No, stay exactly where you are. Don't move." Sherlock commanded, and Serena stopped.

"Okay."

Sherlock's hand reached out for Serena and unconsciously, she reached for him.

"Keep your eyes fixed on me." His voice became frantic. "Please, will you do this for me?"

"What, Sherlock? Do what?" Rayne asked, tears slipping down her face.

"This phone call-it's- it's my note. It's what people do, don't they-leave a note?

"Sherlock, please, don't, don't, don't do this." Serena begged. "We can work things out, we can fix it, just please don't leave me all alone."

"You have John."

"But I won't have you." Serena said.

There was a long pause, a few seconds of silence where Serena could feel her heart shattering into body.

"Goodbye, Serena."

"No, stop." Serena begged. Sherlock spread his arms out wide, and Serena dropped the phone.

"_SHERLOCK_!" She screamed, and his body toppled over the edge.

Serena couldn't hear anything. She strained to move towards him, to make sure he was okay, to take care of him, but she couldn't move. She ran around the corner and caught the barest glimpse of Sherlock's head, unusually red.

"Sherlock-" She began to say, and something knocked her off her feet.

She crashed on her back, landing twisted around someone else. John looked at her, his eyes like a cornered animal's. She could only hear ringing as she tried to stay conscious. But she had to check on Sherlock.

She staggered to her feet and pushed herself to the crowd surrounding Sherlock.

"Let me through." She said, and someone in the crowd tried to hold her back. "Please, I need to see him, please. I need to make sure he's okay." She pulled away from their hands and reached the inner circle

"No, no, no." Serena said dazedly as she looked down at his broken body. John felt for a pulse. His mouth moved but she couldn't hear the words.

Serena collapsed, a hair sinking into Sherlock's jacket.

"He can't be dead, no, he can't be." She said, and a hand wrapped around her shoulders and tried to pull her away. She made no move to stand as John pulled her up. His eyes were big and wet and he was breathing heavily, but he was solid, and so she collapsed into him.

"Please, God, no." She sobbed.

She sat in the car silently, staring out the window. Toby sat at her feet quietly. John held her hand tightly, but they said nothing. She didn't want him to, she wanted to be alone, but she also wanted him there.

They needed each other so much more now.

They got to the grave and Serena wandered away, holding onto Toby. He missed Sherlock to, like a dog who's owner had gone to war. He kept waiting for Sherlock to get back.

Mrs. Hudson and John were talking. Before long, Mrs. Hudson wandered away, and John spoke a few words over Sherlock's grave alone. He walked away as well, and Serena walked over slowly.

"I can't believe you, Sherlock. Lying to me on your deathbed." She began, and her voice cracked.

"I know you aren't a fake. I know it. And I'm never going to stop believing it."

She drew in a breath. "The past week has been so hard without you. John and I, we just keep sitting there, in the flat. I think he's moving, but I'm stuck. I'm selling my place. If John stays, we'll live together. We need each other so much more now."

She wiped angrily at the tears forming. "And the worst part is, I love you. I love you so much. I was all alone, and you made me a part of something, a family. And now all that's gone because you took it with you. And I know you aren't God, and you can't perform miracles, but please, Sherlock," her voice broke, "stop being dead. Stop this, please. Come back to me. Come back." A tear dripped onto his grave, and Toby strained on the leash, whining frantically.

Serena wiped away the tears and straightened. She had to more strong now than ever. She didn't have a choice.

She pulled Toby away from the grave and walked to where John waited. She wrapped her arm through his and leaned against him as they headed back to the cab.


End file.
